Fanfic 100: Ten x Rose
by Veritas Found
Summary: [Unofficial.] [Got Bored of It.] It's the quiet nights, when he's got too much to do and is too tired to do it all, that he wonders if he's truly gone mad.
1. Stretching Time

**Title:** "Stretching Time"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who (2005 series)

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten/Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #80 (Why?)

**Word Count:** 748

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** Nine hundred years and nine incarnations to his name and he still could not grasp the concept of the Indian boardgame of Mancala.

**Notes:** Oh, just a random drabble inspired by my Mancala board falling on me whilst cleaning the closet.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Meg D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Stretching Time"**_

He never understood the purpose of board games, specifically this one. Nine hundred years and nine incarnations to his name and he still could not grasp the concept of the Indian boardgame of Mancala.

It wasn't so much that he didn't understand it – no, he understood the rules perfectly. It was why Rose seemed to enjoy playing it so much that really got him. What could be so entertaining about picking up a few shiny beads and plopping them around a board full of pits? And you couldn't even say it was the thrill of finding out who would win; he had figured out after his first game the simple pattern that always predicted the winner. It wasn't hard to realize that whoever went first could always claim the mantle.

Still, it made her smile, and as he was rather fond of her smile he didn't protest – much.

But one night, just coasting through the time vortex in a rare downtime of relaxation, he found he couldn't take it anymore.

"Rassilon, Rose! What is your fascination with this game, anyway?" he asked when she once again declared herself victorious. Maybe if he demanded he go first more often, ensuring himself more wins than his current record (none, as it was), he wouldn't be so annoyed by the thing. "There's no point to it, really! How can anyone find this fun?!"

She laughed at him, and for a moment he didn't regret snapping. She started to spread the beads out again, choosing to not meet his gaze as she did so.

"You don't get it yet, Doctor?" she asked, and his lips twisted in a frown. Get what?

"I…er…no, not really," he said, hating to admit that she had actually managed to stump him. She looked up at him, smiling at his pout.

"Stretching time," she said, and his eyebrows soared. "S'all it does, really. Gives us just a bit more time."

He never questioned her again after that, and – despite his continuous losing streak – he found he rather liked the game.

- W -

"You have a Mancala board?"

He looked up, eyes wide as Martha picked up the wooden box. The board was folded and bound with two rubber bands, all the beads nestled safely in its inner pockets. She arched a brow and smirked.

"Ain't that a bit too domestic for you, Doctor?" she asked. He looked at the board, the book in his hands suddenly forgotten as he leaned forward a bit in his chair. She ignored the look his eyes took, that misted and glazed haunted look he got whenever he thought of _her_. Instead, she wiggled the board a little, choosing to be amused at the unexpected discovery. "Want to play a round, then?"

"No," he said quickly, jumping up and rushing to the TARDIS's control panel. He began punching in a set of random coordinates, leaving his book flopped carelessly on the floor. She frowned as she watched him zip ahead, going into that hyperactive race-through-life-as-recklessly-as-possible mode he would force upon himself whenever his mind wandered back to his last companion. She tried not to be jealous, but a part of her knew that – when it was finally her turn to part ways with the crazed man – he would never get that jumpy about her memory. He continued working, sending the TARDIS towards wherever and whenever, brisking along in his silent refusal to continue thinking about the other.

"Never really liked the game, anyway," he finally said. "Always lost. Right, then - hold on!"

She dropped the game back to the floor, kicking it into the small crevice she had found it in. He gave it one final look, one final chance for it to inspire the image of a whooping smile and dancing eyes on a quiet night, before looking back to the console before him. He let it slip to the back of his mind, where the rest of the undisturbed trinkets that were simply Rose were kept. That part of him that felt like a bastard every time he put Martha through this spoke up once more, admonishing him for his brash dismissal of the game. And all the while, the dominant part of his mind – the part that still couldn't let go of Rose, despite all the time since that windy morning on the beach – made a silent vow to never play that game again, with Martha or anyone else. He had no use for stretching time now.

**A.n.:** _Well, you know how it goes. Plunnies strike at the strangest of times. Please note that this unofficial claim for FF100 prob'ly won't be updated as frequently as the PPY claim for a while since I'm still getting used to/my facts together about the series. (Once I'm more comfortable it'll be updated more frequently. ) )_


	2. If She had Never Met the Doctor

**Title:** "If She had Never Met the Doctor"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #82 (If)

**Word Count:** 1,334

**Rating:** K/ PG

**Summary:** If she had never met the Doctor, would she have been as mousey as Parallel Earth's Sarah Jane Smith?

**Notes:** Set in Parallel Earth. Rose-centric. Cameo of sorts by Sarah Jane Smith.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**If She had Never Met the Doctor"**_

For the most part, Rose just didn't understand.

When she had met Sarah Jane Smith, during the ordeal with the Krillitanes at Deffry Vale, the woman had been someone she had (begrudgingly) admired. Once she had gotten over that little jealousy thing, the two had gotten along wonderfully. Sarah Jane had been intelligent, confident, determined – everything that made a great journalist. With her adventurous spirit and clever mind, it wasn't hard to see why the Doctor had been so fond of her. By the time they were ready to leave, Rose had even wanted the woman to come along with them.

She had always imagined Sarah Jane as someone (to use the Doctor's own words) fantastic. Someone brilliant. She saw this ideal Sarah Jane as the one she knew, the one the Doctor knew, and the one who was around long before sneaking onto the TARDIS (at least, that's how the Doctor had said they'd met). Sarah Jane was someone Rose could model herself after, to a certain extent, and be great pals with. Sarah Jane wasn't afraid of fighting giant bat people, so the image Rose had been presented with earlier was even more perplexing.

Because really, she just couldn't see Sarah Jane screaming and cowering before a tiny, dog-like alien.

It had taken her a moment to remember that this wasn't really her Sarah Jane, but the image was still disorienting. This Sarah Jane – the one born and raised on Parallel Earth – looked just like the Sarah Jane she knew from her world, and seeing that face terrified of a dog, of all things, was…well, in a word, freaky.

Sarah Jane loved dogs. At least Rose figured she did, since her companion had been a tin one. (She was still amused by K-9, even now; at least she had been jealous of a real person – Mickey was pathetic enough to be jealous of a tin box with spinny ears!) Seeing Sarah Jane terrified of one was weird. She figured maybe this Sarah Jane had had a bad experience with them early on in life, but thinking that still didn't help her any.

And now, watching the shaking woman huddled under a blanket with a cup of tea was even stranger. She seemed so small, swathed in the olive fleece, and it just wasn't the Sarah Jane she knew.

What it all came down to was this: she just didn't understand. She didn't understand how two people who were technically the exact same could be so different. True, her father had been a failure in most everything he did while the Parallel Pete was a success, but that wasn't the same. Her mum said they acted similar, so it wasn't like the success was for lack of charisma or some other personality flaw. This Sarah Jane, though, wasn't even like the real one. She was like a mirror image – skin deep and flickering. There was no base to her, or anything even resembling base. There was just shakes and fear, and all over a dog!

"Are you ok now, Ms. Smith?" she asked as she sat down across from her. Sarah Jane looked up and gave her a weak sort of smile.

"'What are you good at, Miss Smith?' they asked me, and I told them investigative journalism. I figured I'd be going under-cover at some local school cafeteria to prove how they weren't cleaning their dishes properly. I never thought…oh, God…_aliens_! And you – you're so calm! How do you do it, Miss Tyler?" she asked, her face suddenly lost. Rose smiled. Definitely not the Sarah Jane she knew, but still…

"I have an old friend," she said, smiling at the mention, "who showed me so much more than all of this. He took me to the end of the world and back, and after that a little dog doesn't seem like very much."

Maybe that was it. Had this Sarah Jane ever met the Doctor? Was this what she was like, in her world, before meeting him? She hadn't thought it possible; Sarah Jane always seemed so…brazen. Could she really have ever been this meek?

A chill raced down her spine at that thought. Was that it, really? The Doctor? He seemed to be the only variable in the equation of the two. The thought scared Rose; what if she had never met the Doctor? Would this be what she was like? She would probably still be at Henrik's…no, she'd probably be dead – really dead, instead of just listed as dead. In either case, she certainly wouldn't be Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth. Would she have been as mousey as Parallel Earth's Sarah Jane Smith?

If she had never met the Doctor…she didn't like to think about that. Her track record with men had never been truly stellar (with Mickey as the anomaly in that, as he wasn't the worst but not quite the best), but the Doctor, in a way, had changed that. He had taken her hand and told her to run, and they had kept running up until the end. It wasn't about maintaining a teetering relationship with a deadbeat guy; it was about living, pure and simple. He had shown her the universe through his eyes, and she had loved it - she had loved him. He had changed her, and she knew it had been for the better.

Maybe that really was what was so off about this Sarah Jane. This version had never met the Doctor, and so she had never had the chance to be affected by him. She had stayed in her life, quiet and undisturbed, and had never had the chance to become more.

But when this different Sarah Jane looked back up at her, and she saw the way the woman's face had changed from terrified to slightly determined, like she was standing on the edge of a breakthrough, Rose realized the truth behind it all.

It was the Doctor, but it was Sarah Jane, too. Both versions of the woman had the same amount of potential, but the difference was that the Doctor had waltzed up to one of them and had unlocked that potential. He had seen that flickering spirit hidden beneath the cowering mess – had known just what she could have been – and coaxed it into reality, nurturing it until it erupted into a blaze brighter than the sun.

Just as he had with her.

Rose smiled and put a hand on Sarah Jane's shoulder, holding out a business card to her.

"I don't know what your work situation is right now, but I've a feeling you might like this more," she told her, and before she could respond Rose hugged her. "You're brilliant, Sarah Jane Smith."

She left her then, walking out of the tent to see how the cleanup dispatch was getting along. If she had never met the Doctor, she could be as mousey as this universe's Sarah Jane, still bubbling with unlocked potential and living out a rather dull life (quite possibly with Mickey). If she had never met the Doctor she would still be in her own universe, where she knew she belonged. She would probably have died when the Cybermen and Daleks invaded, but she still would have been home. If she had never met the Doctor, she wouldn't know half of the things she did now – including what it was like to really have your heart broken instead of just thinking it was. If she had never met the Doctor, she would never have these 'ifs' to think up in the first place.

As it were, she found she was rather grateful for the Doctor, because when it came down to it…if she had never met the Doctor, she would not be the Rose Tyler she was today, and she found she was rather fond of Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth. And that made the heartbreak of reality so much better than the safety of the ifs, in her book.

**A.n.:** _Finally saw the rest of School Reunion the other day, and it made me think this bit up. (After I got done laughing my head off at Tony Head's _very_ Ascension-y death, that is. xD Seriously, first Saxon is Wilkins and now Giles is a'sploding in a high school. I guess I really will always be a Scooby first and foremost.) Any info I got on Sarah Jane was from Wikipedia, so if I messed up on her story I'm very sorry (I'm hoping it shows more like it would if it was just Rose not knowing much about her pre-SR days). I dunno…the idea seemed better before I wrote it down, but I'm still moderately happy with it so I'm gonna keep it._


	3. The Tyler Slap

**Title:** "The Tyler Slap"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #27 (Parents)

**Word Count:** 1,753

**Rating:** T / PG-13

**Summary:** The Doctor knew there was reason he had wanted to leave Jackie Tyler on Parallel Earth, a whole other universe away from him.

**Notes:** Set after the Doc finds a way to get Rose back (y'know, assuming it actually does happen someday, 'cause I'm an optimist like that).

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**The Tyler Slap"**_

The Doctor knew there was reason he had wanted to leave Jackie Tyler on Parallel Earth, a whole other universe away from him. The reason was currently presenting itself in his burning cheek and throbbing ears, and for a moment he tried his best to tune the Beastie out long enough to remember why they had decided bringing it back was a good idea. Really, wasn't the world a better place without it in it? His certainly was. If not for the fact that its not being in the world meant its daughter wasn't in the world, either, he would have been happy with it being gone.

Even, y'know, if a teeny weeny, teensy eensy, tiny winy, itty bitty part of him actually had missed her. It. Had missed it. (Rassilon, no – no way was he going to grant it the gift of identifying pronouns when his hearing was in jeopardy and his cheek still stung like the dickens!)

One look to his side, to the snickering Rose Tyler reminded him of just why it had had to come back with them. Rose would have missed her mother, and as Parallel Torchwood had proven itself to actually be evil (oh, _big _surprise there) and had endangered the Tyler bunch, he really had had no choice in the matter. He had to bring it back, just like he had had to bring Pete and Mickey the Idiot back. And it wasn't like he saw her all the time; he was usually off gallivanting with Rose. It was just times like this that they had to see her.

Or, y'know, when they were out of milk. Or had to do the wash. Or when Rose just missed her (those were his least favorite times, as he considered their justification very poor).

He tuned back into the Beast's ranting as it slapped him again, and he winced as he felt something pop. Oh, he was definitely going to have to get that checked out…

"Are you even listening to me?! You're not, are you?!" it screeched, and he gave Rose a Look. It was one of his special ones reserved just for Jackie Tyler, of the 'I Can't Believe We Actually Had To Come See Her' variety, with just a bit of 'Help, Please!' dashed in. Rose shook her head and bit her lip, still snickering beside him. That was probably why he felt a certain rush of justice when the Beastie turned on her, jabbing an accusing finger her way.

"And you! How could you let him do this to you?! How can you be so happy with it?!" it asked, and Rose folded her arms over her chest in a very mature, dignified sort of way.

"Because, Mum, I love him," she said, then – smirking like the little minx she was – added, "and it was fun."

He really wished he had a camera. He might have to sneak back in time and hide behind the sofa or something with a camera later, just to get Jackie's face at that exact moment. All of her gusto was ripped from her with those three little words, and the Beastie deflated into a flummoxing Jackie. And really, if he hadn't been there to see it, he wouldn't have believed it. He would have paid for a hundred dinners at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe just to see it, had he missed it. It was just that good.

"Fun, eh?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at Rose. And Jackie turned on him, giving him one of her own Looks, and he instinctively threw his hands over his face, crying out for mercy. Two slaps in one visit was bad enough – three was borderline torture.

"You two are…and now she's…and you…oh, I need a drink!" she cried as she turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen. When they were both rather certain it was safe again (though he really hoped 'drink' referred to tea – he didn't think he could handle Drunk Beastie right now), Rose walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso. He put an arm over her shoulders, stuffing his free hand into his pocket as he kept a wary eye on the doorway Jackie had just passed through. Rose reached up and gently touched his cheek, frowning at the warm, red skin.

"Poor Doctor," she said. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Oh, very much so," he said, grinning at her, "but not until we're away from Jackie. Really, now I know why so many men complain about their mothers-in-law. Not just a nasty little Earth habit, you know. Every male in every species does it. And I've just joined their ranks."

"The great Doctor, scared of a middle-aged British woman," Rose said, laughing. He had the distinct feeling that should have insulted him, which made him wonder why Jackie hadn't slapped her. Oh yeah. Her _condition_.

"I'm not drinking any of that tea," he said, assuming – hoping – it really was just tea Jackie was making. "She'll probably dump a load of poison in it if I do. Then yell at me some more for…how did she put it again?"

"'Impregnating me with your alien spawn,'" Rose said, still grinning, "or something like that."

"Right, no tea for me, thanks," he said. "Maybe I should just go back to the TARDIS and…"

"Oh, no, you don't," she said, tightening her grip as he tried to turn for the door. "You're staying right here with me and Mum. I need the moral support, and you're just as guilty as I am right now. Besides, you should be here when we tell Dad."

"He won't slap me, right? Pete's not been around Jackie long enough to pick up on her violent tendencies?" he asked, and Rose laughed.

"No, I don't think he'll slap you," she said, shaking her head. "Now c'mon – I would like some of that tea before it gets cold."

"I told you we should've just called…" he grumbled, rubbing his face. She leaned up and kissed the not-so-abused cheek.

"Then it would've just been worse next time we did see her," she said, and he scowled.

"_Two_ slaps, Miss Tyler. Two," he said. "Almost three."

"Baby," she said, tapping his shoulder as she led him into the kitchen. His scowl turned into a grin as he saw Jackie muttering to herself, tearing through the cabinets in her agitation.

"Oh, where did he put the Scotch?" he heard her mutter, and he bit his lip to fight back the snicker.

"Right. I just hope, if it's a girl, she never brings her boyfriends home," he said. "I'd hate to see if you've picked up Jackie's slapping talents."

"Oy!" Jackie called, and he held up his hands in defense. "You deserved both of 'em, you did! Getting my Rose pregnant with your…what do you call your spawn, anyway?"

"Jack calls 'em 'Time Puppies'," Rose said with that cocky grin she's become so fond of, and he choked on his breath.

"They are not 'Time Puppies'!" he snapped, this time knowing he should be insulted. "They're just little baby Time Lords…"

"So it's gonna go changing its face, then?" Jackie asked, frowning, and he rolled his eyes.

"Only on Saturdays," he said, and from her reaction he wondered if she had noticed the sarcasm in his voice. He looked back at Rose as Jackie started ranting again, and she patted his shoulder.

"She'll be ok with this, I promise. She's been looking forward to grandkids," she whispered as she leaned closer. "She was just hoping they'd be with Mickey."

"Not helping," he whispered back. He was grateful when Jackie sat down with the kettle and three mugs (even more so when he noticed the perfectly innocent, non-poisonous teabag in his), though he wasn't too fond of the weary look she kept sending Rose and him. It wasn't helping that Rose was still leaning on him, seeming perfectly content to not move. Normally he wouldn't complain, and he wasn't really now, but he really didn't like that look Jackie kept giving him. It was one that said he was the Antichrist and that he was going to bring about the end of the world just for even thinking of having…'fun' with her daughter. He briefly wondered just how Jackie would treat the kid, once it was here.

"So…" she finally said, and they both looked at her. Rose just looked tired, but he knew he had to look as worried as he felt. For some reason he just wasn't that comfortable around Jackie – at least not all the time, or, really, most of the time. Even more so when she was in a good mood; she tended to do crazy things like hug him or – much, much worse – kiss him. That greeting he still had nightmares about. "I guess I should be congratulating you lot, then."

"You're actually ok with our…er…spawn?" he asked, and he winced as Rose jabbed her elbow into his ribs.

"Well it's still my grandbaby!" Jackie snapped. "What am I supposed to do, deny it because you're a git? It can't help who its daddy is!"

"Same to you," he mumbled, and Rose nudged him again.

"How did this happen then, exactly?" Jackie asked. Rose choked on her tea, and he rolled his eyes.

"Well, Jackie, when a man and a woman love each other very much –" he started, stopping as he ducked the spoon she chucked at him.

"I know that, you git! I mean with you two!" she said, and this time he heard Rose sigh.

"Mum, you know how we feel about each other," she said, and Jackie rolled her eyes. Somehow he knew that wasn't quite the answer she was looking for.

"Well, you see, Jackie, she was totally smashed, and I thought it would be a great time to find out just how far I –" he started, stopping when Jackie screamed. He leapt out of his chair and ran out of the flat, down five flights of stairs, and a good twenty meters down the alley to the TARDIS – all with a butcher's knife-wielding Jackie on his heels – as he realized that maybe that wasn't quite the answer she wanted, either.

A few years later, when Rose came to him holding a tiny stick with a blue end, he decided that a phone call was definitely the best way to tell your parents – or at least Rose's mum – you're expecting.

**A.n.:** _I can't quite remember what birthed this plunny, but once the little bugger latched itself onto the back of my head I really couldn't not write this. 'Twas just too tempting. Anyway, I feel I should inform you all that I did not think of the phrase 'Time Puppy'. I first read it in one of Reichenbach's Doors stories (it was Jack who thought/said it, though), and it was just too snickerish a term to not use._


	4. Snogsick

**Title:** "Snogsick"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #14 (Green)

**Word Count:** 769

**Rating:** K/ PG

**Summary:** She had realized a long time ago that the way her mum greeted the Doctor would always be in direct relation to her mood.

**Notes:** Set after the Doc finds a way to get Rose back (y'know, assuming it actually does happen someday, 'cause I'm an optimist like that).

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Snogsick"**_

It was something she still liked to tease him about, even all these years later. Of course, that was mainly his own fault; he was the one who used her as a human shield every time they went to enter the Tyler flat. It never really helped, either, when her mum was in one of her moods. All her mum had to do was push her out of the way and she had a clear shot at the Doctor, no matter how much he tried to hide.

She had realized a long time ago that the way her mum greeted the Doctor would always be in direct relation to her mood. When she was worried, angry, or any other kind of upset, the Doctor would get slapped, yelled at, or chased around with a butcher's knife. When she was happy, ecstatic, or in any other mood that could be dubbed good, the Doctor was greeted with hugs – and sometimes even kisses.

That first time she had greeted him with a kiss was what had started the "Rose Tyler, Human Shield" bit. They had walked into the flat, and her mum had run up to them. After hugging her, she had rushed the Doctor and had given him the same bear hug treatment, and then she had kissed him. Two or three times, if memory served correct. She had had a good laugh about his face afterwards, though never around him. Wounded Time Lord pride would've been a bit too much to deal with then, especially when they had whisked off to Torchwood.

He always remembered it, though, and now – years after he had rescued them from the parallel world – he still tried to avoid her mum when they went to visit. He wasn't fond of her slaps, but he wasn't crazy about her kisses, either.

"I just can't win with that woman!" he shouted as he burst into the TARDIS, looking rather…well, like he always did after a close encounter of the Jackie Tyler kind. A little red in the face (usually from rage), right along with a little green (almost always from nausea). The green was a bit more predominant this time, though, and it made the part of her that wasn't snickering worried.

"Mum give you a hard time, then?" she asked, and he fixed her with a glare. He then stormed over to her, grabbed her face in his hands, and proceeded to shove his tongue as far down her throat as he possibly could. When he pulled away, she noticed that the green was nearly gone – though he still looked ready to kill.

"If she kisses me one more time, Rose Tyler," he said in his no-nonsense, lecture-ish voice, "I may just split open the Void and chuck her back into Pete's World."

"She kissed you again?" she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing. The green returned as he leaned back on the TARDIS's console.

"She's just too much sometimes, I swear," he said, slapping a hand over his face. "And tongue! I don't appreciate having her tongue shoved down my throat, you know. Married women shouldn't go around shoving their tongues down people's throats! Especially when the people are involved with their daughter!"

She threw her hands over her mouth as she bit her lip harder. She knew laughing would be a very bad idea, but between the nauseated look and the kicked puppy look his face was trying to pull, it was almost impossible to not. He shot her another look before grabbing her wrist and pulling her close, removing her hands from her mouth before kissing her again. She pulled away and grinned.

"So this is your answer to kissing my mum, then? Kissing me?" she asked, and he grinned as he stole another kiss.

"Trying to erase the memory from my mind, yeah," he said. "Otherwise I might just loose my lunch right here and now, and I doubt the TARDIS would be very happy with me if I went and puked all over her."

"You do look a tad green," she commented, touching his cheek.

"I think I need a Rose, then," he said, grinning cheekily at her, and she laughed at the reversed pun. She leaned closer, ghosting her lips over his as she smiled.

"I'll talk to Mum," she said quietly. "See if I can get her to stop snogging ya'."

"Please do," he replied before giving her another quick kiss. "Because I mean it about ripping open the Void. Dead serious, even."

"Oh I'm sure you are," she said, laughing. "I'm very sure you are."

**A.n.:**_ Ok, so Whorathon on SciFi caused an army of plunnies to invade the Pink Room. This one came from the bit at the beginning of "Army of Ghosts", because the face the Doc made after Jackie kissed him was just too priceless. I really did think he was gonna hurl after that. xD So yeah…this might get a few updates relatively quick, and I blame it all on the Whorathon._


	5. Final Warning

**Title:** "Final Warning"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #22 (Enemies)

**Word Count:** 892

**Rating:** K/ PG

**Summary:** "You have me listed as an enemy. You got me as one now."

**Notes:** Set during the end of Doomsday, after the rift is sealed.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Final Warning"**_

He had to force himself to move. If he didn't, he knew he would have stayed against that wall forever, eyes closed and pressed as close to it as possible in an attempt to feel the impossible. No, he shouldn't say that; it wasn't impossible. Feeling the ghost of her cheek against his, whispery fingers trying to grasp the ones that should have always been just an arm's length away proved that it wasn't impossible. But he knew, in that quiet part of his mind he didn't always like to listen to, that if he didn't leave neither of them ever would. They'd both stay pressed to that wall, and the Universe would spin on around them, and eventually they'd both wither away until they were husks of former people. A testament of sorts to just how cruel the Universe could be.

They were the stuff of legends. That's what he had told Ida not so very long ago. Maybe, if he hadn't been so thrilled to just have her back with him, he would have realized how poor his choice of words had truly been. He couldn't think of many legends that had happy endings, and none that truly ended in forever. They were the stuff of legends, even down to their legendary ending, and now that was all she'd ever be to this world. One more legend in a pantheon of many, though he knew hers would always be the brightest.

He could still hear the sounds of battle raging on around him. The screams and cries of the partially-converted, the guns of those fashioned from metals from this universe's blazing, and the equally violent guns and shattered cries of the humans left to fight. The humans left to kill their families, friends – anything that bore a resemblance to the Cybermen that needed to be killed.

Stiff legs carried him from the Ghost Shift room, towards the door leading to the staircase. He had to find the TARDIS. He had to get out of here, as far away from Torchwood Tower as possible. He had to leave the humans to figure out their own way to clean this mess up. He had to get away from that wall before he ran back to it, clinging to the plaster as he let the world go on without him.

He didn't fully register how close the guns were until he opened the door and saw the back of the Cyberman, firing its gun at an empty space a flight of stairs below.

"I did my duty for queen and country. I did my duty for queen and country. I did my duty for queen and country."

He didn't have to talk to it or study its metallic voice to know exactly who the Cyberman before him was. His fists clenched at his side as he breathed her name, his voice choking somewhere between a growl and an overwhelming sense of loss. The firing stopped as the shell that had been Yvonne Hartman turned to him, its movements stiff and clunky.

"They will not pass. I did my duty for queen and country," it said, and his eyes darkened as he realized that whatever remnant of Yvonne was still in the shell had convinced itself that its actions had been justified. He grabbed the gun from it, turning the weapon on her as he gasped for breath that suddenly seemed to be evading him.

"Murderer," he breathed as he fired the gun. The ray spread over the Cyberman's body, and the once-Yvonne shook and cried as oily tears leaked from its eyeslots.

"I…am…sorry, Doc…tor," it breathed before collapsing backwards on the steps, rolling down to the scorched landing a flight below. He heard a swivel and looked up to see a security camera training on him, and a part of him wondered if there was any security left to notice his presence. He tossed the bulky gun to the ground and turned, looking into the scoping lens with that same murderous look in his eyes.

"Torchwood is officially finished," he called, his voice rising in ferocity as his whole body shook. "Don't you dare rebuild. This place is a testament to your ruin – let it remind you every day of just why you ought to leave well enough alone! If you start this mess again…if you even think about restarting Torchwood…"

He looked down, squeezing his eyes shut against the burning as his mind replayed the past hour in his head. His hand flexed as he saw her apologetic eyes locking on his, worried more about him being alone than about her own death, wanting more than anything to feel her hand in his own just one more time.

"I am the one Daleks have nightmares about," he said, his voice choked with tears. "I will return and I'll make this battle seem like paradise compared to what I'll do to you. You have me listed as an enemy. You got me as one now."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from the camera, ignoring the swiveling sounds as it followed his progress down the stairs. He stepped over the metal shell and continued on his way, not once pausing to give it a look of remorse.

"I'm sorry, too, Yvonne," he said before disappearing down the steps forever.

**A.n.:** _Really, got nothing to say for this one. Figure it's pretty self-explanatory. I do want to note that I didn't mean to make Yvonne seem like the villain here, if she turns out that way. I'm actually rather fond of Yvonne; I love the bittersweet ending she has, even if I wanted to slap her for most of the time before the end. Anyway, I also wanna say this: thanks for all the support so far! I wasn't sure how these would take off, so it's nice to know people have been enjoying them. Thanks again, y'all!_


	6. Let's Keep on Running

**Title:** "Let's Keep on Running"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #97 (Writer's Choice: Running)

**Word Count:** 915

**Rating:** K/ PG

**Summary:** "If I stop running now…I'll look around and realize it's you here, not her, and I won't know how to keep going."

**Notes:** Could prob'ly take place anywhere during series three. 'Cept maybe at the very beginning.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Let's Keep on Running"**_

"Days like this I just get so tired," he said, leaning his head back and letting it thwap against the railing of the TARDIS. Martha looked at him, her eyes knotted in concern.

"Tired, Doctor?" she asked, and he nodded. "Of what?"

"Of running," he said. "Doesn't always hold the same thrill it once did. I can't always see what's going to be on the other side of the sprint anymore."

"Then why don't you stop?" she asked, and for a moment, as she saw that pained look flicker across his face, she wondered if she had said the right thing.

"I can't stop, Martha."

"Why?"

"Running isn't always from the present danger, you know," he started, his face growing considerably darker. "Sure, I run from them to live another day, but…I don't just physically run, do I? I run from everything. And the minute I stop – the very moment I decide I might like a breather – it'll all catch up to me. Every last stinking thing I've ever done, every last person I've ever lost…it'll all be there, waiting to grab me. If I stop running, I don't think I'd ever be able to start back up again."

Martha took his hand then, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'll be here to help you remember," she said, and it took everything she had to not visibly wince when he jerked his hand out of her own.

"I can't stop," he said again. "I don't have that option."

"Even if I can help you run again?" she asked, and he shook his head. She suddenly saw exactly what he was saying in his eyes; the swirling depths looked so very old just then, and the thought chilled her to the bone.

"She believed in me, even when I didn't have any reason to believe in myself. Even when I didn't deserve it," he said, his eyes turning in on themselves to see someplace in his mind only he had access to. "I'm sure, even now when I've told her it's impossible, she still believes I'll find a way to rip open that Void and drag her back here. If I stop running now, I won't have the heart to start again. I'll look around and realize it's you here, not her, and I won't know how to keep going. And if I don't know how to keep running, I'll never be able to pull off the impossible. And then I really never will see her again, and I…if I stop running long enough to accept that, that just might be what finally kills me."

In that moment Martha hated him and loved him all at the same time. She wanted to scream at him and comfort him, torn between the side of her that was starting to love him and the side of her that wanted his previous companion returned to him. She stood and held out a hand, giving him the brightest smile she could manage when he looked up at her.

"Come on, then," she said, shaking her hand a little. "Let's keep on running, and we won't stop until we manage the impossible and rip open that Void."

Never mind that she had no idea what this Void was. Never mind that she knew the moment the other girl was back she'd have to leave. Never mind that she knew the moment she finally met this girl she knew her heart would break. Never mind that she knew sometimes impossible really did just mean impossible. If for only this moment, she could be supportive and pretend it wasn't killing her.

He took her hand and pushed himself up, brushing out the wrinkles the grilled floor of the TARDIS had imprinted on his pants. His goofy grin returned as he pulled her into his arms, giving her a quick hug, before he dashed off to set the next set of coordinates.

"Doctor…" she started hesitantly, not entirely sure she wanted to ask the question. He never looked up, letting out a "Yep?" with a popped 'P' to let her know he had heard her. "What you said, before…did you always see it? What came after the running?"

He stopped, his hand resting on the switch that would send them off to their next adventure. He looked at her, his eyes taking on that haunted look once more, and she found part of her did regret asking, and that that part was almost strong enough to overrule the part that needed to know.

"Yes," he said, lowering his hand slightly.

"And was it always good? Was it always worth running towards?"

He looked down again, smiling as his eyes glazed over. In his mind he saw the biggest smile laughing the most wonderful laugh, brown eyes sparkling as perfectly matched fingers entwined with his. He felt the same rush he got every time he picked her up and crushed her to his chest, marveling in the simple feeling of just being alive and together. He heard her voice ghosting through his ears, whispering that same promise of forever over and over again. In his mind he was back in the days before Canary Wharf, and it wasn't Martha Jones giving him that expectant, hesitant look, but Rose Tyler peeking at him with a grin as cheeky as his own.

"Oh yes," he finally said, flipping the switch and grabbing onto the control panel as the TARDIS started to quake. "It always was."

**A.n.:** _I'm rather fond of the Writer's Choice themes; there are some ideas I have that I'd love to write out for this, but I just have too much trouble matching 'em up to the themes already listed. Like this one. (Side note: yay for SciFi finally starting S3; I've found I'm very fond of Martha, though I still love Rose so much more. Martha's gonna be a blast to work with, though, so she may be showing up in more of these.)_


	7. Happy Birthday

**Title:** "Happy Birthday"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #91 (Birthday)

**Word Count:** 1,479

**Rating:** K/ PG

**Summary:** She still remembered the last time she ever really liked her birthday.

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday. Takes place in Pete's World, years after Canary Wharf.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Happy Birthday"**_

"_Oh, the things lovers do when it's over_

_Oh, the things lovers do when it's done_

_Find a cool bottle or a warm shoulder_

_Wake up older, and try to move on"_

- "Wake Up Older", Julie Roberts

She still remembered the last time she ever really liked her birthday.

It was back when she had still been with the Doctor, a time that seemed too far removed these days. If not for the old key she always kept 'round her neck – one of the only real pieces of proof she had it had ever happened – she would have thought it was just some crazy dream. She had always kept a pretty good track of time when she was with him, so she knew when her birthday was coming up. She never said anything about it, though; she didn't think it was important enough to worry him with it.

The Doctor had had other plans. She didn't know how he found out, but she had woken up one morning to find him outside her door, blowing a party favor in her face. There was one of those goofy, conical hats with the snapping string placed on his head, and before she could fully recover from the party favor he had placed a plastic, silver tiara on her head, wishing her a happy birthday at the same time.

"You, Miss Tyler, are twenty today! Two whole decades – now isn't that something? We need to celebrate!" he had said, and she remembered that all she could do was laugh. Laugh and hug him and be completely amazed at the simplicity of his logic. He was over nine hundred, and he was amazed at twenty?

They went to a fair billions of galaxies away from Earth, and it had been the best day of her life. He had bought her candy floss (or at least that planet's equivalent) while he set about finding out just how many pizzas he could tuck away at one time (he broke the parlor's record of five with a stomach-turning twenty, though he said he "could have gone for more", but "twenty was the day's theme" so he had stopped). She had laughed a half-hour later as he clutched to a trashbin for dear life after a rather violent coaster ride, and she remembered telling him that he was getting what he deserved for eating so much before the ride. They had decided to walk around the booths then, mostly to let his stomach settle, and he had won her a pink stuffed bear (at least it looked like a bear) at a tossing game. She had laughed and screamed as they went back to the rides, the adrenaline of coasters and chutes and a slew of other death-defying attractions filling her veins.

They had ended the day on a Ferris wheel, hovering hundreds of feet above the air as they looked out at the night sky. She had hugged him and cuddled close, using him as a living blanket to block out the chilled night, and thanked him for the best day. He had kissed her forehead then, telling her that she deserved the best and better. She had laughed at him, telling him that that didn't make any sense, but it had only been to distract him from the warmth that had stained her cheeks.

It had been perfect, and she had loved every minute of it. She hadn't had a birthday like it since or before, though really she didn't keep track of her birthdays anymore.

Her first birthday on the parallel Earth ('Pete's World', as the Doctor had wanted to call it) had been shaky. For the most part it had been like any other day: get up, go to work for a not-so-evil Torchwood, come home. Work had been normal; she hadn't told anyone there, and even if she had it wasn't like they would have noticed. Very few people liked her there; she was a suspicious upstart, the mysterious daughter of their boss who just seemed to pop up out of nowhere. Her mother had arranged a small party for her at home, though. It was a small gathering, with just her parents, her baby brother, Mickey, and Jake there to celebrate, and it was really just cake and presents after a meal. They had tried to be happy for her, but when she had opened Mickey's present to find a framed photo of the Doctor and her, she had started crying and had run from the room.

The photo was the only one she had of the Doctor now, taken by Jake just before they had left to return to their world after defeating the Cybermen on the parallel world. They had looked so happy, hugging outside the TARDIS as they celebrated to Cybermen's defeat. It had stung her for the longest time, but once she had placed it on her nightstand it never left. Mickey had told her he thought it would make her happy, having a picture of him. He had been right, though at the time she hadn't fully realized it. It hurt to see him – to see them, how they had been and should be – but it was something. It was comforting and devastating all at once, but she loved it all the same.

That had been years ago. After that she had let her birthday slip from their minds, choosing to let it pass unnoticed. She was happier that way, really. It was the same as her deathday, in a sense; if she was the only one paying it mind it made it easier. Though, compared to her deathday she just treated it regularly. On her deathday, she would take two weeks off from work and go back to Norway, to Bad Wolf Bay. It was her tradition, her way of seeking closure – or maybe it was just some small glimmer of hope making her think that, if she kept going back, one day she'd turn around and the Doctor would be standing there for real, ready to take her home.

Today was her fortieth birthday.

It was strange, some days, to look at herself in the mirror. Today had been one of those days. It had started slowly, right after she had arrived in Pete's World, but after twenty years of being stuck there the difference was impossible to mistake. Twenty years of grief and pain and trying to cope looked back at her, reflected in hard eyes and frown wrinkles and lackluster hair. Her mother had told her, the day of the war, that she was becoming like the Doctor, and that if she continued traveling with him she'd wake up one morning and find she was no longer Rose Tyler or even human, just some strange woman in an alien market. Her mother hadn't realized that that was Rose Tyler, the smitten girl clinging to the pinstriped arm of the Doctor. Twenty years of living in a parallel world had done exactly what her mother had feared; she was no longer Rose Tyler, just some forty-year-old woman taking her place.

It broke her mother's heart, she knew, but that's just how it was – how she was. She had tried to move on, plunging herself into work at Torchwood and even trying a few blind dates Mickey had set up for her, but it never worked. She was only half a person living in an alien world that was so similar to her home it was almost maddening. Her mother had commented once about how she wasn't like the other twenty-year-olds in parallel London. They were carefree and happy and exuberant about life; she was older. And though she knew why, it was still hard to watch her daughter ignore her youth. She had been hardened by life years too soon, and it had amazed her how someone could go to bed one night a happy, bouncy twenty-year-old, and wake up a dull-eyed, stiff-lipped twenty-yet-not-year-old. Go to bed young, wake up older.

And now she was physically older, but it was still the same. Sad and serious, determined and cruel. Jaded, but not from twenty years of extraterrestrial-battling life. Her birthdays passed unnoticed, much the same as she did now as she walked past the desks of her coworkers and up to the Ghost Shift room. They had left it abandoned after the war, but she still went there. Sometimes it helped, sometimes not so much.

When she got there and saw the fluffy pink bear plopped against the wall on the far end with a note tied to the yellow ribbon on its neck, she wondered just what kind of time it would be. Shaking hands picked up the bear, recognizing it from all those years ago, and a gasp escaped her as she read over the note.

_Happy birthday, my Rose._

**A.n.:** _-whistles innocently- What? You guys got imaginations – you fill in the blanks. )_


	8. Whispers in the Dark

**Title:** "Whispers in the Dark"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #74 (Dark)

**Word Count:** 821

**Rating:** K/ PG

**Summary:** Every time the lights went off, she heard its voice in her head, repeating those words over and over and over again. 'The valiant child who will die in battle so very soon.'

**Notes:** Set shortly after "The Satan Pit".

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Whispers in the Dark"**_

It was just quiet threats in the dark, but she still couldn't shake them. Every time the lights went off, she heard its voice in her head, repeating those words over and over and over again.

"_The valiant child who will die in battle so very soon."_

She never spoke of it to the Doctor after they had been reunited; he had said it had lied, and she believed him. She always believed him. But when the dark came, and she was alone again, the belief wavered as the ominous voice returned.

"_You will die."_

It was a promise, a guarantee so vile it tore her heart to even think of it. He had said it had lied, but she had to wonder. They lived their lives entangled in so much danger…had the battle in the warning been the battle with the Beast, or had it warned them of a battle to come?

The dark brought the nightmares, the cold, and the fear. It wasn't long before she was begging the TARDIS to leave her lights on at night, and even then she couldn't shake the image of the bright-eyed, possessed Ood, staring at her impassively through the monitor as it promised her death.

"_The valiant child who will die in battle…"_

And then it returned as she writhed around in her blankets, gasping for breath and nearly screaming against the steady Ood.

"…_so very soon."_

Soon. Soon was a thought she didn't like to think about, not when she had always promised forever. Soon meant leaving the Doctor. Soon meant he would be alone again.

It was a flooding feeling that she couldn't fight, washing over her and replacing the old fear with a new one. Where was he? Was he all right? He was always so alone, and soon…

She had been to his room many times before, but never like this. Never shaking and crying with pure fear coursing through her, the TARDIS lighting up every bit of hallway she passed through to help chase away her demons. She reached the room faster than she normally did, which surprised her, considering how slow her steps had been. She reached up a hand to knock, sucking in a sharp, surprised breath as the door whooshed open before her, the Doctor's concerned face suddenly before her own.

"Rose? What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, his arms coming up to wrap around her in a comforting hug. She choked on her breath for a moment, hating herself for every tear that slipped past her eyes.

"Soon," she whispered, and she felt him tense just the tiniest bit. He rubbed her back, and she held him tighter as the voices whispered again in her mind.

"What's soon, Rose?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I don't want to leave you," she said, and she gasped as he crushed her to him, as if he knew exactly what was playing through her mind without having to be told.

"You won't – not ever," he said firmly, and it was almost enough to convince her. He pushed her back to arm's length, his hands resting on her shoulders as he gave her a smile. "Forever, remember? You and me, stuff of legends. Always gonna be. Forever."

It was the first time he had ever made the promise to her, instead of the other way around. It was also the first time he tugged her into his room, telling her he'd keep away any nightmares that tried to claim her. It was the first time she spent the night wrapped up in his blankets, curled against his chest with his arms around her as his double-heartbeat soothed her to sleep.

It was the first time since escaping the black hole that she had been able to sleep in complete darkness without the threat and the eyes playing through her mind.

They stayed that way, sharing the same room and bed night after night. He held her and she slept, her nightmares practically extinguished in the calm peace he offered. He never complained, and she never questioned it.

It wasn't until months later, when she felt her fingers slipping from the handle as the vacuum that was the Void sucked her in, that the darkness returned. She caught his eyes as he screamed at her to hold on, and despite the glaring white of the room all she saw was his terrified eyes, edged in black.

"_The valiant child who will die in battle so very soon."_

"ROSE!!!!" she heard him shout as her hands finally slipped, her body being pulled towards the darkest place she'd ever know. She barely heard the pop over the roar before she thudded into someone, a pair of arms wrapping around her. She whipped her head around, her eyes catching his one final time.

"_You will die."_

One final whisper of truth, and the glaring dark covered her world.

**A.n.:**_ Another thanks for everyone reading; over a thousand views and this hasn't even been up a week yet. You guys are making me feel special. ) (Seriously; the views stats spike up about another hundred every time I check it. It's amazing, really.)_

_And before I forget: this'll prob'ly be the last of the daily updates, 'cause I really need to get buckled down with school before I find myself unable to finish the summer courses. 'Cause that would be bad – really, really bad (especially for a spaztastic perfectionist like me)._


	9. Southern Kicks

**Title:** "Southern Kicks"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #59 (Food)

**Word Count:** 768

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** It was one of the most domestic things Rose Tyler had ever seen, at least for the Time Lord before her. It also made her wonder just how smart she had been in deciding to leave him at the flat with her mother while she went out shopping.

**Notes:** Blame my Granpa and his wonderful Virginian roots making me question my choice of pound cake toppings, 'cause in a round-abouts way that's what spawned this.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Meg D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Southern Kicks"**_

It was one of the most domestic things Rose Tyler had ever seen, at least for the Time Lord before her. It also made her wonder just how smart she had been in deciding to leave him at the flat with her mother while she went out shopping. Sure, she had known it was a risk, but…this was not what she had been expecting to find upon her return. Bloodshed would have been a more likely bet than this.

As it was, the Doctor was sitting on the sofa with his feet propped up on some magazines on the coffee table, watching the telly (Trisha, of all things!). A bowl was in his hands, and he was busy spooning its contents into his mouth happily. It looked like pound cake. Pound cake with slices of some kind of fruit and whipped cream. The can of whipped cream was sitting next to him, and occasionally (when it would get low in his bowl) he'd pick it up and squirt some more on the cake, or he'd just shoot some into his mouth. His hair was a mess (worse than usual), his suit jacket was slung over the back of the couch, his tie was loose, and his glasses were propped onto his nose. She was torn between astonishment and wanting to gush; as weird as it was, it also had to be one of the cutest things she had ever seen. He looked like one of the five-year-olds she used to babysit, and something about that was unbelievably adorable.

"What in the world're you doing, Doctor?" she asked as she walked over to him, placing her hands on her hips in an attempt to look like a scolding parent. She failed horribly; it was hard to seem scolding when you looked like you were about to bust a gut laughing. The bags of groceries were left forgotten by the door, but she wasn't too concerned; Jackie was already making her towards them. He looked up at her and grinned, shaking the bowl the slightest bit as he did so.

"Pound cake 'n plums – with whipped cream!" he said, acting like it was the greatest thing in the world. "Totally brilliant!"

"You look like you just got off your nine-to-five," she said, trying her best to hide the smirk. He picked up the can and squirted some more whipped cream into his mouth.

"I could get used to this," he said, his grin never fading, "if this is what you get after working a shift at a nine-to-five. Jackie's a horrible cook, of course, but she actually makes the best pound cake – we must take some with us when we go. And plums. Lots and lots of plums. And whipped cream. I wonder how this would be with bananas? Oooh, I bet it would be even more brilliant with bananas! Jackie, you got any bananas?"

Rose's hands flew to her mouth as she snorted, unable to take it any longer. He looked up at her as he put his feet down, dropping his spoon in the bowl so he could grab her hand and pull her down next to him. He landed his feet back on the coffee table and held the can above her mouth, shaking it as he waggled his eyebrows at her. She laughed, opening her mouth and allowing him to give her a shot.

"Good, right?" he asked, and she placed a hand over her mouth to keep the topping from flying across the room before she could swallow. She gulped it down and nodded, fighting her giggles.

"Yeah," she said, and he placed his empty bowl on the table (she didn't even want to know how he could have finished it so fast – it had been practically full when she had come in!) before squirting some more in his own mouth.

"Oy! We use that for guests, you know!" Jackie said as she walked back into the room to gather the rest of the bags.

"S'actly what I am! And I mean it about the bananas!" he said, pointing his finger at her in a serious manner (which ended up looking very un-serious, as that was the hand holding the can and the finger was feathered with whipped cream backspray). Jackie just shook her head, muttering about how "ungrateful and disrespectful" the Doctor was being. Rose laughed as she fell against him, snatching the can from his hands.

"You, Doctor," she said as she squirted a massive amount into his mouth (which he had conveniently opened to protest the theft), "are simply too much sometimes."

**A.n.:** _Seriously, plums 'n pound cake with whipped cream is the best. Granpa's idea (Southern kicks are the best, really). (I'm still a strawberries girl through-n-through, though!) And I don't care what Granma says; whipped cream shots can also be the best sometimes._


	10. The Doc and his Chucks

**Title:** "The Doc and his Chucks"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #19 (White)

**Word Count:** 616

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** Jackie had told the Doctor every day for two months leading up to the wedding – ever since he purchased his tux – that he was not allowed to wear his trainers with his suit.

**Notes:** Inspired by a bit in ch16 of Moonbean's fic Living a Life. So, y'know, technically I guess this one's for her. Set after Rose gets back from Pete's World (my fingers aren't gonna uncross for that one).

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Meg D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**The Doc and his Chucks"**_

Jackie had told the Doctor every day for two months leading up to the wedding – ever since he purchased his tux – that he was not allowed to wear his trainers with his suit. It would be a cold day in hell before she would let her eldest daughter's wedding be ruined just because her groom wanted to be stubborn. He had replied every day for two months that the Void – that is, hell – is just absolute nothingness, so there couldn't possibly be a cold day or even a relatively warm day there, so she had no grounds to base that threat upon.

He had received an exceptionally biting slap every day for the past two months, as well.

Rose had stayed out of the fight; she didn't care either way. On one hand, she thought the Doctor in dress shoes (preferably ones that went with the suit) would be a good thing. It would keep the relative uniform look going on, and really it was just common sense. In that respect she could agree whole-heartedly with her mother; no white Chucks were to be seen at the wedding. On the other hand, it was the Doctor. He was the only man she knew of who would wear a pair of white Chucks (or, really, just Chucks in general) with a suit and still manage to make it look normal. It would be weird if she was to walk down that aisle and see him standing there without them; they were just part of who he was. It would be just like if he didn't have his sonic screwdriver in his breast pocket (she knew without a doubt it would be – it always was), or – if he had never regenerated – if he hadn't been there with his leather jacket. They were just little things that made him him, and if they were absent it would just be weird.

So in the end, she had ignored her mother and had told him to surprise her. Jackie had scolded her for that one, saying that now he was just going to show up in his pinstripes instead of a proper tux. The Doctor had seemed tempted by the idea, but he had promised he wouldn't.

And now, as she stood behind the doors of the sanctuary, fidgeting in her princess-esque gown, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly would be on his feet when she got up there. And then she had to laugh, causing Pete to give her a funny look. She grinned at him and shook her head, smiling.

"Sorry," she said, "it's just…any other bride would be shaking with nerves, yeah? I'm here wondering what kind of shoe the Doctor's wearing."

"You aren't any other bride," Pete said, kissing her forehead, "and he's not any other guy, either. I would be shocked if either of you were thinking normal wedding thoughts. I bet he's just thinking of how long he'll be able to avoid Jacks."

Rose opened her mouth to comment on that, but a loud _SMACK!_ sounded above the chattering in the room beyond, followed by a stunned silence, an indignant shout, an accusing shriek, and a congregation full of laughs. Rose and Pete shared a look, both fighting back their own chuckles.

"I think we just got our answers," he said, and Rose shook her head, muttering about her mother and the Doctor in amusement. The organ started and he gave her arm a squeeze, smiling at her as she tensed.

"Ready?" he asked, and she took a steadying breath, thinking about her Doctor with his fancy suit and white trainers waiting for her at the other side of the church.

"For years now."

**A.n.:** _'Cause really, you know he would so go to his own wedding in his Chucks, and I'm fairly confident he'd have the screwdriver tucked away somewhere, too. They're his Linus blankies ('specially the screwdriver)._


	11. Last Goodbye

**Title:** "Last Goodbye"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #30 (Death)

**Word Count:** 4,207

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** She wanted a world with more than two minutes left to live. She wanted a world where she didn't have to live out the rest of her years dead and slowly dying.

**Notes:** Set during their final goodbye at Bad Wolf Bay. Song bit used is from Miranda Lambert's "Last Goodbye". Also, my DSWD really shone through with this one, so here's your Tissue Box Warning of the day.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Last Goodbye"**_

She pushed open the old jeep's door and threw her legs out, looking around the desolate beach with desperate eyes. It was so lonely and cold; it felt out of place in the world. But then, this wasn't her world. Maybe here beaches were sad places people strayed away from. Maybe it was just because she felt so broken nothing could seem happy anymore. Maybe it was just that strong sense of foreboding she had creeping at the edge of her mind. Whatever the reason, she knew this wasn't somewhere she would have come to on her own. At least, the old her wouldn't have. This new her – the one that had emerged after the war – might find this place a comforting home.

She heard the others getting out behind her, but she put them in the back of her mind. She still heard his voice ghosting through her ears, stronger than it had ever been. She knew that this was where he had been leading her, though she still wasn't sure how. It had just been a quiet echo, calling her name over and over. The closer they got the more intense the feeling became; it wasn't louder, but it was stronger. And now, standing a good deal away from her family and staring out at the bleak, gray ocean, it suddenly stopped.

She was just as suddenly very cold, and she knew it had nothing to do with the wind whipping around her. She blinked, taking in a shaky breath as she wished for just a moment that his voice would return to her. It had been torture, but at the same time it had been a comfort. Hearing him, even if she couldn't see him…it had been something. Something she desperately wanted to cling to, as insubstantial as it may have been.

The first spark came as a glimmer out of the corner of her eye. The spark wavered as she turned her head towards it, suddenly terrified and hopeful all at once. He was there, right beside her, but he was just a ghost. She could see the waves slap against the rocks behind him, a good stretch of sand leading up to them. Something in her stomach knotted as she turned towards him, and though a million things sped through her mind only one question managed to break past her lips.

"Where are you?"

Confused and cracked, it hardly seemed appropriate. _"How did you get here?" "Why can I see through you?" "I thought I'd never see you again." "I love you."_ It all fought in her throat, and _"Where are you?"_ had won out. He was here, obviously, but…not. Transparent. A ghost.

"Inside the TARDIS," he said, and her breath hitched in her throat. He wasn't here. "There's one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close. And it takes a lot of power to send this projection."

Not here. A projection.

"I'm in orbit around a supernova," he said. He paused, a defeated smile twisting his lips. She wondered if the same look was on her own face, almost sure it was; she felt as broken as he looked. "I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye."

He was burning up a sun, for her. Something in the back of her mind told her she should be touched, but beneath the pain and confusion it was barely registering. All this way, and he wasn't even here.

She didn't even want to think about that last word. She didn't want to think about 'goodbye'. She wanted to stay with forever and running and together. He came to say goodbye. Good…her throat clenched and she forced the thought away. No, she couldn't dwell. She couldn't think of this as goodbye, no matter how definite he sounded when saying it.

"You look like a ghost," she said, shaking her head. She wondered if maybe that was worse than his not being here, looking like he was dead and yet not. He raised his hands, and she could see the sonic screwdriver in them.

"Hold on," he said, adjusting the screwdriver. He looked off to the side, pointing it at something she couldn't see, and she felt crushed again. He was home – where was she? Suddenly he wasn't a ghost anymore, and she walked towards him. Her body shook as she reached up, her eyes hesitant and breaking at his grave look.

"Can I t-" she started, somehow already knowing the answer before he said it.

"I'm still just an image. No touch," he said, and it broke her all over again. She decided that maybe this was worse than before, looking real but without substance. Nothing to touch, no hand to hold, nothing to feel – it was a special kind of torture, and despite her joy at just seeing him the rebellious part of her mind hated him for it.

"Can't you come through properly?" she asked, nearly choking on the question. _Fix this. Let me hold your hand again. Let me touch you again._

"The whole thing would fracture," he said, though it hardly seemed like a reason to her. "Two universes would collapse."

"So?" she asked, and he smiled at her. It was selfish, she knew, but she didn't care. She wanted him here, or – even better – her there. She wanted home, and this cold beach was most certainly not her home. He was, and he was taunting her by standing there, an incorporeal image so close and yet an impossible stretch away. It was selfish, and stupid, and she knew better than anyone the bazillion and one reasons why she should never even entertain the idea. And she didn't care.

"Where are we? Where did the gap come out?" he asked, turning his head to look around. She saw it, briefly flashing through his eyes before he had turned to cover it up. It took all she had to remember how to breathe then as she realized he wanted to be just as selfish as she was. For a moment, she wished he hadn't had nine hundred years of responsibility pounded into his mind or a burning planet reminding him just why he couldn't give in to that want. Stupid? Yes. But she still didn't care.

"We're in Norway," she said, deciding to go along with him for the moment. She didn't know how long this would last, and as selfish as she wanted to be she couldn't waste her time. She was stupid for being selfish, but that was stupidity ascended, and she knew that would be even worse. He nodded, seeming relatively ok with her answer.

"Norway, right," he said, sounding as if he was trying to distract himself. Well, wasn't she guilty of the same thing?

"About fifty miles out of Bergen," she said, looking back to the sea. "It's called 'Dalig ulv Stranden'."

"Dalek?" he asked, his face scrunching up in surprise and terror, and she shook her head. The name still sent chilling needles through her veins, causing visions of death and destruction to flicker behind her eyes. She wanted to close them against it, but at the same time she didn't want to miss a moment of seeing him. Still, the name cut all the same. Every time she went up against a Dalek she lost something, and it didn't take much for her to hate and fear them as much as he did now.

"Dal-_ig_. It's Norwegian for 'bad'," she said. His face relaxed in realization, though she only barely registered it. Her mind went back to Satellite 5 as she considered her next words, once again wishing she had a TARDIS to rip open so she could manipulate the time vortex. There was no vortex to send her back to him this time. Even if there was, would she have been able to manipulate it to traverse the Void? A bitter laugh tore itself from her throat as she decided he should know. "This translates to 'Bad Wolf Bay'."

Bad Wolf. Her bay. Was it possible to spread her message across the Void? Had she known, even then, that this is where their time together would lead? Had she known this would be her final chance to see him, to tell him everything? She still didn't remember much from that day, but something made her question it. With how the universe worked, she wouldn't be surprised if it was just cruel irony. Scattered, cryptic messages had no purpose here, not anymore. The universe just wanted to mock her.

"How long've you got?" she finally asked, her voice cracking despite her best efforts to remain calm. It was the question she didn't want to ask, but she needed to know. _How much longer until you disappear? How much longer before we're both alone again?_

"'Bout two minutes," he said, and her heart broke all over again. Two minutes hardly seemed fair after traveling so far. All this way for two minutes. Two bloody minutes with an insubstantial Doctor she couldn't even touch. She hated the universe just then, more so than she had the past three months. She looked down and breathed, forcing herself to calm as she shoved a hand through her hair. _Don't dwell. Live for him, for now. Don't dwell._

"I can't think of what to say…" she said, her voice caught between a sob and a laugh. She had so much to tell him, and all they had was two minutes. She couldn't sort through it all to find what was important and what wasn't – it all was. Thank yous, unanswered questions, unspoken confessions…how could she possibly decide what one thing was more pressing under that kind of pressure? Two minutes wasn't enough, but, she realized begrudgingly, a lifetime probably wouldn't be enough, either.

His light laugh brought her out of her stupor, and she joined him briefly. It seemed surreal, laughing when she felt her heart being ripped to so many tiny pieces. He looked over her then, over to the jeep and her mum and dad and Mickey.

"You still got Mr. Mickey, then," he said, and she wished all the harder that he would turn corporeal then, just so she could hug him. She was a sobbing mess before him, trying her best to be strong, and he was throwing on his best grin and upbeat voice just for her. She loved him all the more for the thought, though it didn't really work; how could she let herself be happy when their time was ticking away? And he chose to spend it talking about Mickey?

"There's five of us now," she said, swallowing back the urge to yell at him. He was doing this for her, and wasn't she trying not to dwell? This would be their forever; it had to be. She looked away, once again going along with his lead, all the while praying time would just up and stop. "Mum, Dad, Mickey…and the baby…"

She glanced back at him then, and she bit her lip as his eyes widened.

"You're not…" he breathed, and his voice mixed with that terrified look almost killed her. Why was he so scared? Did he think the baby was theirs? No, he couldn't…there had never been…she had never been brave enough to try to get to that level with him. She hated herself for it now, but then…they had had all the time in the world, all the time they needed to get there. Why had they wasted it?

Glancing up at him, into his nervous eyes, she realized where the fear was coming from. He wasn't scared that the baby was theirs; he knew it couldn't have been. He was scared that it was hers – and someone else's. Someone that wasn't him. He was scared she had moved on already. He was scared she had forgotten him.

"No," she said, quickly. She didn't want him to think that; she never wanted him to even think that she could move on to someone else after him. Hadn't Sarah Jane told him the same thing? After him, there could be no one else. If it couldn't be him loving her that way – if it couldn't be his child – then it would be no one. When the fear only slightly left, she laughed, and she smiled as she saw him relax. "It's Mum."

He laughed with her then, looking back to Jackie with a bemused sort of smile. He didn't have to say it for her to know exactly what he thought of that idea, a mix somewhere between 'Good for her!' and 'Oh no, Jackie Tyler in charge of another life…Rassilon help us all!'. She was grateful for the relief on his face; it was a welcome change to the fear. She didn't want him to fear anything, not if this was…_no. Don't dwell._

"She's three months gone," she said, trying to snap her mind back from any thought that would keep her from the here and now. "More Tylers on the way…"

He looked back at her, and she was almost overwhelmed by the concern she saw in his eyes. All for her, like she was the only person in all the universe.

"And what about you?" he asked, and she bit her lip. How could she tell him? "Are you…"

"Yeah, I'm back working in the shop," she said quickly. What was it – a joke or a lie? Was she that ashamed of her job? Was she that scared of how he'd react? Or did she just want them back to that place where it was only them and nothing to remind them of anything horrible?

"Oh. Good for you," he said, nodding. She tried not to laugh as she shook her head, rolling her eyes at him. Really, could he be that happy to hear she was a shopgirl again? He had told her, before he had regenerated, the first time she thought she'd really lost him, that he wanted her to have a fantastic life. They both knew that working at a shop wasn't fantastic, especially compared to all she had done after he had blown up her job. No, he couldn't have meant it; he was just trying to make her feel better, but really…he couldn't make her feel better anymore. Not when he was a projection with under two min–

_NO. Don't dwell!_

"Shut up," she said, the laugh still lingering in her voice. He deserved the truth. And hadn't Jake told him? Here they weren't so evil. "No, I'm not. The Torchwood on this planet's open for business. Think I know a thing or two about aliens."

She was expecting him to frown, to tell her to get as far away from Torchwood as possible. Torchwood had caused the war. Torchwood was the reason he was just a projection while she stood on an alien planet. Torchwood had torn them apart. But that was the real Torchwood – the Torchwood from home. Her dad – her parallel dad, at least – ran this Torchwood, and it wasn't evil. And if she was there – if a group knowing how horrible Torchwood could be and once was – maybe they could keep it from becoming such.

He didn't seem disappointed, though. If anything, he looked proud. Proud and happy with a thousand-watt smile lighting his face. She had to smile herself at that; he wouldn't hate her for joining the enemy. Or at least a company with a name she knew they would both always associate with the enemy.

"Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth!" he praised, and her smile grew just the slightest. It sounded so much better when he said it, not traitorous at all. It only took a moment, though, and he was suddenly looking past her, to a point not really anywhere behind them. A grimace covered his face as he swallowed, as if he wasn't sure if he should continue. "You're dead. Officially, back home."

Dead. Wasn't she really? She felt it. Inside, it was just a numbing chill that had wrapped itself around her heart the moment she had let go of the handle. It was a cold she knew only he could heal, but it was also one that she knew he never could. Not now. Dead…somehow, it seemed to fit.

She wasn't sure if she smiled because of the simple irony of it all or just to make him happy.

"So many people died that day, and you'd gone missing. You're on the list of the dead," he said, and for a brief moment she hated him. It was like he was rubbing it in, reminding her again and again of her death. Right now, it was just emotional, but a quiet corner of her mind couldn't help but whisper that emotional might was well be physical. They both led to the same ends, didn't they? At least physical was less painful. His smile threw her off guard, but it was a welcome distraction.

"Here you are, living a life day after day," he said, sounding amazed at it all. She didn't feel as amazed; she felt hollow. How could it be a life if she was here, without him, stuck on solid ground? How could this be living? His smile vanished, and she found the pained, heartbroken look he gave her so much more fitting.

"The one adventure I could never have…" he choked, and suddenly she knew. Her mind flashed back to the time on the space station, trapped on the planet that never should have been. She had joked at their dire situation, saying that they could get a mortgage and live out life together. He hadn't answered, seeming devastated by the simple prospect, but now she knew. With that one look, she realized that – right now – he would leap at the chance for a proper life, with a mortgage and a picket fence and a little dog and kids in the yard. If it was with her, and it meant they could be together, he would go domestic. He would grab the adventure in a heartbeat if it meant it they were together again.

And suddenly it was too much, and she felt the tears spilling from her eyes as she ran another nervous hand through her hair. She looked up at him, her face scrunched in her effort to not cry. She didn't want him to remember her as a blubbering girl on some dead beach in Norway.

"Am I ever gonna see you again?" she gasped, and he shook his head. Her heart split at that, and she wondered just how far away her physical death was.

"You can't," he said, and it was so definitive her heart shattered the rest of the way. She didn't know how she remembered to breathe as the tears fell down her face. She didn't know how she managed to keep standing as the earth was ripped out from under her.

_You can't._

But why? Why couldn't they have that one adventure together? Why couldn't they have their forever?

"What're you gonna do?" she asked, her tears choking her voice.

"Oh, I've got the TARDIS," he said, but it sounded so hollow with the bitter laugh he let out after. "Same old life – last of the Time Lords."

"_I'm left traveling on my own because there's no one else."_

"_There's me."_

That's how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to always have her – forever. She had promised him! How could the universe rip that promise from them now? How could it leave him alone again? How could it leave her alone again?

"On your own?" she asked, feeling so horribly torn. He nodded, short and quick, and she couldn't remember a time she had felt worse. And then she was back at the 2012 Olympics, looking up at the council worker as she realized he was still missing, so alone. _Who's going to hold his hand now?_

And then it was all so much clearer, and the millions of thoughts parted to let her know. If this was it…if this was the last time she would ever see him, ever speak to him, there was really only one thing she had to tell him. There was only one thing she could tell him, and it wasn't any of this idle chatter and her mum's pregnancy or where she was working or where in Norway they were. Just one thing, and it was something she should have told him eons ago. Something she should have told him the very moment she had realized it.

How had she wasted so much time?

"I lo-" she started, but it caught in her throat. She would have laughed at the irony of it all, but it was something too cruel for laughter. How could she laugh at this, at him? She looked down, swallowing hard as she gathered her last few shreds of courage. She looked back up at him, and she cursed the tears that blurred his face. "I love you."

"Quite right, too," he said, giving her a smile that made her feel like she had just ripped out his hearts. She nodded, smiling and willing the lump to leave her throat. He had said two minutes, and they had already spent so much of it…right then, she wanted nothing more than just a bit more time. Just a bit.

"And I suppose…" he started, looking as lost as she felt, "…if it's my last chance to say it…"

She smiled, her already broken heart breaking even more as she realized exactly what he wanted to say. It tore just a little more as she realized it was something they had both always known yet had never acted on. So much time they had spent together, laughing and loving and never saying a word of it, and now it was all reduced to two minutes on the most God-forsaken beach in existence. She would never forgive herself for wasting those two years.

He didn't have to say it, but she knew he wanted to. She could see it in his eyes as he watched her, trying to force his mouth to work properly. He wanted her to know as badly as he wanted her back with him, and it killed her just a little more as she realized just how definite this was. They had finally found their impossible, and it was the one impossible she knew he'd never be able to stomach.

"Rose Tyler –" he started, and that was it. No sooner had her name left his lips than he had vanished, leaving her alone to have the wind sweep around her and blow the fragments of her battered heart to the far corners of the world. Her throat constricted as she watched where he had just been, her body shaking as her mind struggled to catch up with reality.

_Time's up._

Her mouth opened, letting out a strangled breath as her eyes slid closed. There, right behind her eyes, he still stood, smiling at her as he whispered the words he had wanted so desperately to tell her. But she knew, the moment she opened her eyes, she would find him gone, and as the thought washed over her she threw a hand over her face. She covered her eyes, willing them shut just a bit longer, trying with everything she had to hold onto the image of him standing before her, smiling at her with that goofy grin.

But time trudged on, and her hand slipped to her gasping mouth as her eyes peeked open. He was still gone, and she was still alone. They both were now, and she leaned forward as the enormity of the thought slammed into her, stealing her breath.

_Alone._

She straightened and turned, seeing her family back by the jeep. Mickey and her dad looked grave, but her mum looked horrified. She hated herself all the more then, watching them stand so far away. She had them, but she still felt alone. He was really alone. He didn't even have a mum to push her way past her husband and run to him, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better again. He didn't have her to hold his hand as they ran through the tough times. Her shoulders bobbed as her sobs increased, and the need for warmth and comfort and arms around her crashed over her like a tidal wave. She tore herself from that spot and raced to her mum, meeting her half-way. Familiar arms wrapped around her and held her tight, but they weren't the arms she wanted to feel. A soothing voice whispered ignorant assurances in her ear, but it wasn't the voice she wanted to hear, either. It wasn't her mum she wanted – it was him, and she felt horrible for thinking it.

She wanted a world with more than two minutes left to live. She wanted a world where she didn't have to live out the rest of her years dead and slowly dying.

_And I'd say, 'Just a few more minutes. Daddy, please, we need a little time_

_To say our last goodbye.'_

**A.n.:** _I do believe this is the longest one in this batch so far. Anyways…I was gonna do this theme focusing around Rose's 'death' anyway, but after I heard this song a few days ago it had to be done this way. I think it's now become one of my favorites in this challenge, even if it's an idea everyone and their grandmother's cat has done. And really, had to use a country song for this, 'cause in the end, your best broken-heart songs will always come from country; nothing tunes the angst better than a steel guitar._


	12. Understanding

**Title:** "Understanding"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #76 (Who?)

**Word Count:** 3,925

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** She needed to understand who Rose was, and maybe that understanding would let her know why the Doctor was how he was now compared to how he looked in those photos.

**Notes:** Set sometime during the third season, preferably before "Utopia".

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Understanding"**_

Martha Jones knew very little about the Doctor's previous companion. She knew a name – Rose – and various facts, things he'd mutter when he wasn't thinking or was too busy thinking on something else to keep the walls up. But really, Rose was still an enigma to her.

That was probably why this room intrigued her so much. After a rather messy escape from some angry, pitchfork-wielding villagers in fourteenth-century England, the Doctor had been in one of his moods again. He had resolved to hiding away under the TARDIS controls, fixing things that she was starting to think really didn't need fixed. When it became obvious he was in no mood for company, she had left him to explore the TARDIS. The ship was huge, and she was still getting her bearings of the place. She had finally managed to figure out the basic routes to the important places (her room, control room, bathroom, kitchen, etc.), but she found she was still perfectly capable of getting lost in the vast halls. It didn't help that the TARDIS liked to change her corridors, either, subtly shifting them whenever she was in the mood.

Martha had realized her first week on board that the ship could be as tetchy as her owner.

She had been roaming around, lost again, when she had come across the door. It was painted a brilliant pink (which surprised Martha, as she didn't think the Doctor a pink kind of guy), and a lively, bouncy kind of energy seemed to be radiating from the room beyond. Unable to resist the curiosity, she put a hand on the knob and twisted it, smiling as the lock clicked and the door creaked open.

That had been her second surprise.

The room looked like a normal teenager's room, the owner obviously from her time. The walls were painted the same pink as the door, though they were covered by posters and photos and shelves filled with knickknacks and more picture frames. Clothes lay scattered over the floor, and the bed was only hastily made; the indent from where whoever had owned this room – a girl, she was guessing – still visible on the covers. The room was dust-free, and – despite the dried look of the open make-up containers on the dresser – looked like the owner had just stepped out, ready to return any moment and ask her what she was doing in her room.

She closed the door behind her as she stepped into the room, trying not to trample the messy clothes. She walked over to the dresser and smiled at the mirror; snapshots, ticket stubs, playbills, and other paper memorabilia lined the frame, leaving the space in the center free for primping. She smiled at the pictures; there were various faces smiling back at her, most of the Doctor and a blonde girl. It almost tore her heart to see the Doctor in those photos; he was happy – truly happy – in all of them. There were no fake smiles or soul-wrenching pain lurking behind his eyes in any of them, just pure, unbridled joy. Some of the photos were of the blonde with an older man, one with big ears and equally large nose wearing a leather jacket. There were a few with a black-haired man with an award-winning smile, and there were even some with a black man with a dopey grin.

There was a card propped open near the mirror, and she picked it up to see a quirky little birthday cartoon on the front. She flipped it open, and that was when she got her third surprise of the day – the one that almost made her heart stop.

_Happy birthday, Rose! Meet me in the kitchen when you wake up, and dress warm! I've got a surprise (no, I'm not going to tell you what it is – where would the fun be in that?). – the Doctor_

She put the card back in its place and looked around, suddenly feeling very guilty for intruding on the space. Something in the back of her mind told her she shouldn't be here – that the Doctor would be very, very cross if he were to find her here – but there was something else, a quiet nudging telling her she needed to see this. She needed to understand who Rose was, and maybe that understanding would let her know why the Doctor was how he was now compared to how he looked in those photos. When she looked back at the pictures, at all the smiling faces and silly scenarios displayed before her, she knew Rose had to be why the Doctor had so many moodswings. She had figured that before, but now – faced with the proof – it was all the more obvious.

She turned from the dresser and walked over to a shelf, smiling slightly at the photos. She grinned at one of the Doctor standing before the TARDIS on a field overlooking a bustling, futuristic city. He looked nothing like her Doctor; his pinstripes and coat were gone, and he wasn't even wearing his trainers. He had a pair of worn blue jeans on, and black sandals were on his feet; a green shirt with white writing saying "I discovered a new race and saved New New York and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!" covered his chest. His hair was mussed from the wind, his hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he had a cheeky smile on his face. Leaning against that frame was a smaller picture of the Doctor, Rose (at least, she was fairly sure that's who the blonde was), and an overweight man looking like he had just stepped out of the eighteenth century. Silver writing scrawled over their heads, and the man was handing a folded green shirt to the Doctor, who was sharing an amused grin with Rose.

_Doctor and Rose – You both will forever be welcome in our humble city of New New York. Thank you for saving us all – and those new humans – from those twisted cats! (Though really, Doctor – just a shirt, and with that odd saying? You are certainly a very strange man!) Oh, yes – and we'll look into putting a shop in the hospital once we start rebuilding! – Arch Duke of New New York_

She smiled as she remembered the Doctor's muttering all that time ago about how her hospital had had a shop. It made a bit more sense now.

There was another photo near it, this one looking like it was from a Christmas. They were sitting at a table, a tree shining merrily in the background, pressed up as close together as possible. Their cheeks were pressed together, smiles lighting up their faces and arms across their shoulders as they tried to hold back laughs. The Doctor had a red paper crown on top of his head, and a pink one was on top of Rose's. They looked so happy and peaceful, and Martha envied them.

There were other photos and baubles, most of which Martha guessed were souvenirs from past adventures. There was a tiny scrap of orange fabric next to a twig of mistletoe (Martha guessed that was fake), along with a bag of something that looked like marbles and a tiny yellow bear holding a fake pink rose.

She turned and saw the bed, and she smiled slightly as she saw a fuzzy pink bear, much larger than the one on the shelf, sitting nestled under the covers. She paused as she saw a silver camcorder on the bed with a piece of aged paper on top. Scribbled on the paper in a hasty scrawl was one word: 'Doctor'.

She knew the moment she saw it that she had no right looking, but she justified her actions by telling herself she also shouldn't be in this room. Besides, it didn't look like the Doctor had been in here in ages – maybe the tape was something important he needed to see?

In the end, when she turned it on and pressed the replay button, she only felt the tiniest bit guilty.

–W–

When the Doctor had finally emerged from his funk (both literally and metaphorically, he realized sardonically as he pushed himself out from under the TARDIS console, at the same time making a note to stop thinking in 'ally's), the thing that bothered him most was the quiet. The gentle hums of the TARDIS could still be heard, and the suction-esque sound of the time rotor was still plunging away, but that was all. There was no background conversation, no muted hum of headphones, no pestering about what he was fixing or where they were going next. There was just silence, and it was disturbing him.

He hadn't really had a chance to have the TARDIS quiet since R…since Canary Wharf. Everything had gone at lightning speed since the war, first with buzzing around trying to force that projection across the Void, then with Donna and her screeching (and slapping), and now with Martha. The noise was a welcome distraction, and while it was never as comforting as with Rose, it still kept his mind from wandering to gray beaches and tear-choked almost-confessions. But now, with nothing but the TARDIS humming in the background, he felt that wandering start to sink in.

With a determined shake of his head, he pushed himself off the ground and looked about, wondering just where Martha had gone off to. That thought was soon followed by wondering how long she had been gone, which made him wonder how long he had been sulking.

He set off down a hallway, his mind sinking back into his brood as he went to find her. His sudden mood wasn't Martha's fault, but he knew it must have felt like it to the poor girl. After running from those villagers today…his mind had slipped. When they had started screaming and running towards them, he had been taken to another time as he had grinned and slipped his hand into Martha's. The villagers had chased them at breakneck speeds all the way back to the TARDIS, and once they were safely inside he had whirled around, grinning maniacally, ready to laugh with Rose about what a rush the chase had been. His mind had returned to him them as he saw Martha smiling at him, and as quickly as it had come the mirth left his face.

He had turned around and, after sending them back into the vortex, had plunged himself into unnecessary repairs, hating himself for forgetting. He hated himself for taking a moment to think that Martha had been Rose, for losing Rose, for turning away from Martha so coldly, for letting himself forget Rose for even the tiniest second, for not really forgetting her at all, for being such a bastard towards his new companion.

Yes, he'd admit it. He was a right bastard most times when it came to Martha, especially when those times involved memories of Rose.

He smiled slightly then as he lifted his eyes from the grated floor. He would apologize, and then he'd take Martha somewhere nice. Somewhere where they didn't have to run for their lives. Somewhere where he wouldn't forget she was Martha, not Rose.

Those thoughts immediately left his mind when he realized where the TARDIS had led him. They were completely destroyed when he heard the noises behind the pink door. A shaking hand reached out to grasp the handle, and he sucked in a breath as the metal seared him. He hadn't been in this room since before that day. He hadn't been able to.

He opened it quietly and saw Martha sitting on Rose's bed, a camcorder in her hands. She pressed a button, completely oblivious to his presence. He started to ask what she was doing, but an all-too-familiar voice cut through the room, stealing his breath.

–W–

Martha bit her lower lip as the camera flickered to life. At first all she could see was the pink wall and light green duvet, but then the view was lifted to show Rose's face. The view zoomed out a bit, and Martha was afforded a decent shot of Rose from her turquoise-clad shoulders up.

"Right then, I guess this is on," Rose's voice said from the tiny device. She sounded slightly scared, but the nervous look soon vanished into a brilliant smile. "Hello, Doctor! I would have done one of those fancy hologram things like you did last time, but…well, I never thought I'd need to leave one of these, so I don't really know how, do I? Oh, God…listen to me, prattling on like you! I guess you are a bad influence after all, eh?"

She tried not to laugh at that, and the want to laugh was suddenly smothered by the grave look Rose's face took on. The girl bit her lower lip as her eyes flickered back and forth, hesitating before continuing.

"So I guess you know what that means, then. The whole 'if you're seeing this I'm dead' thing," she said, and Martha's brows shot up in surprise. Rose laughed slightly, bitterly. It was hollow and unnatural, and Martha didn't like the sound of it. "Thing is…I know it's silly, but you're out there with my mum, being hauled around by Torchwood police, and I'm stuck in here. Well, you know how it goes. You tell us to stay still and we never do. I guess I won't be the companion to finally listen to you, eh? They're still moving the TARDIS, but once it's clear I'm going out to look for you.

"I thought this might be a good idea, so here I am," Rose said, laughing again. She shrugged and looked up to the ceiling, her smile broadening slightly. "I can feel it, Doctor. Maybe it's part of the Bad Wolf still stuck in me, but – did I ever tell you? I'm starting to remember things. From Satellite Five and Bad Wolf. So maybe that's what…great, now I'm rambling again. Point is, I got a feeling that whatever Torchwood's doing is bad. And…

"You told me the Beast lied, Doctor," she said, her eyes looking square at the lens with a seriousness that didn't match her young face. "But…I'm sorry, I just can't forget it. It said I was going to die, and…this bad feeling? I keep thinking…so this is in case. In case something happens. Goodbye and all that, yeah?

"Not that I want it to be!" she amended, and Martha smiled a bit. "God, I never want it to be goodbye. I promised you forever so many times, and you know I mean it. But like you say, we've got to be practical. So if I don't make it through whatever they're doing and you find this, here it is."

Rose straightened slightly before looking back at the camera lens. She smiled slightly, though Martha could see her nerves and fear through it. She suddenly felt so horrible for the girl, this stranger that had the Doctor wrapped so securely around her finger.

"Find someone, yeah?" Rose asked, and Martha's breath hitched in her throat. "For me, please. I don't want you alone, Doctor. Find someone who will run with you and laugh with you. Someone who's gonna hold your hand when I can't. Someone who'll hug you and joke about whatever's trying to kill you when you're still in the thick of it. You've spent so long alone, Doctor, and you don't need to be. You've no idea how much I wish it could still be me, but if what the Beast said is right...it won't be. So find someone.

"Be happy," Rose continued, giving the camera a watery smile. "Don't go broody again – I don't want that security jacket coming back out, yeah? You know the last you was fantastic, but this you is brilliant. You're happier now, and even if you can talk an ear off it fits you. No more armor, Doctor. Live, and be happy, and be fantastic. You said last time, when you sent me home and that recording was talking, that I was supposed to have a fantastic life, so why can't I tell you the same? And when you were regenerating, you said we were both fantastic. Well, yeah, we were. But you keep on being fantastic.

"I…" Rose stopped, looking down as she bit her lower lip. She looked back up, and Martha could see tears glistening in her eyes. "I love you. I wish I could tell you in person, and if we live through this I will – I promise. You've no idea how much, Doctor. This has been the greatest adventure of my life, and I'm so glad I got to share it with you. You've opened me up to so much, and I don't regret a minute of it. I just wish I could have told you all this before the end. So I love you. I need you to know that."

She opened her mouth to continue when the room around her started to shake, jostling her about a bit. She looked around for a moment, that fearful look flashing across her face for just a moment, before turning back to the camera.

"Right, then," she said, nodding. "Time to go. But…one last thing, Doctor. I hope this is stupid. I hope you never have to see this, and this stupid fear is just me being paranoid. So really, this is just a reminder to me. When we get out of here, we're going to Barcelona. You never took me, and I want to see those noseless dogs."

She laughed slightly, her tongue poking between her teeth, before looking back at the camera.

"You're right – it always is funny," she said. "So…yeah. That's it, then. We're gonna live through this and go to Barcelona. Spend a few days just relaxing. And chips! We have to get chips. Do they have chips on Barcelona? Ah, sorry…I'm doing it again. But yeah…Barcelona and chips."

She shook her head, clearing the tears from her eyes and looking back up at the lens with a brilliant smile. She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling, before she nodded.

"I love you," she said, her smile warming with the words. "And now I'm going to go get your sorry arse out of trouble, so…that's it, then."

The view left her face and fell on her lap as the camera was turned upside down, and a moment later the screen was black. Martha bit her lip, her eyes watering and hands shaking as she looked at the camcorder. She heard a thump by the door and looked up, her eyes widening in fear and shock as she saw the Doctor slumped against the door. His face was twisted in pain, and he was staring at some unidentifiable point on the floor. His mouth hung open as he gasped for air, and Martha suddenly hated herself. He looked like his heart – no, hearts; she had to remind herself it was hearts – had just been ripped out.

"Oh, God," she whispered, shaking her head. "Doctor, I'm so sorry! I didn't…it was open, and I was curious, and I know I shouldn't have, but…I'm so, so sorry, I –"

"Get out," the Doctor said, shaking his head. Her hands drooped as her face fell, and she gulped a breath before nodding. She snapped the view window closed and put the camera back on the bed, standing stiffly and making her way past the Doctor.

"I just…I wanted to understand," she said, pausing just outside the door. She looked at him, at the tortured look he shot her, and she sighed. "You're always talking about her, and I don't even know who she was. I thought if I knew…maybe I'd understand better. Maybe I'd understand you better. But…I'm sorry, Doctor."

–W–

He felt like a bastard again, but a quiet voice in his mind whispered that he had every right to be curt with her. Still, as he watched her walk away down the hall, he felt like a bastard.

But as he looked back into the room, to the camcorder lying on the bed, he once again didn't care. Martha had overstepped her bounds this time – she had no right to invade Rose's space like this. She had no right to snoop around like she owned the room, like she had no respect at all for the former occupant.

The TARDIS hummed around him, whispering to him that Martha had needed to know, to understand that he hadn't always been so volatile, but as he stepped inside and closed the door, leaning against it and looking at the mess of violent pink before him, he didn't care. The lump in his throat burned as he sank to the floor in a broken, crumpled heap. He pressed a hand over his eyes as sobs shook his body, drowning in the memory that was Rose Tyler.

He didn't know how long he sat against that door, trying to stop the tears he had held in for so long, but when he finally went to stand his joints were stiff. He forced himself off the ground and carefully stepped over the clothes, not wanting to disturb the room any more than it had been. He picked up the camera and the note and sat down, closing his eyes as the smell of Rose's soaps rose from the duvet. He smiled as he breathed in the scent of apple grass, the only soap she would use after they found it in a little store in New New York. He looked back at the camera, his eyes turning solemn as he opened the view window. His finger hovered over the replay button, unsure for just the briefest of moments, but with another steadying breath he pressed it.

–W–

Martha hated herself as she stood outside Rose's door, listening to the grieving Time Lord inside. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes as remorseful tears slipped down her cheeks. She hated that she had caused this, but the TARDIS hummed around her, letting her know that it was all right.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew he needed this. He hadn't properly grieved her yet, had he? He had just raced forward, jumping head-first off the cliff and back into the swing of things. She didn't know how she knew – maybe it was the TARDIS whispering it to her – but she knew he had needed to go into that room, for closure if nothing else.

Despite all that, another part of her knew that wasn't the only reason she felt so horrible. In a way, she knew Rose now. She had a face to connect with the name, and on top of that a nervous goodbye showing just how much she had cared for the Doctor. Martha couldn't help but wonder if what the Doctor had told her that first day was true, if Rose really was happy with her family right now. Somehow she couldn't see it as such; if this was how the Doctor was taking it, she knew Rose couldn't be happy, wherever she was.

Her fist clenched against the door, and she pushed herself away, turning to go back to her room. She couldn't be Rose – she knew that now better than ever – but maybe, just maybe – if he let her – she could be that hand to hold, if just for a while.

**A.n.:** _I'm only mildly happy with this now; the idea seemed better before I wrote it out. Music helped, though (what can I say? I get my best inspiration from muzika!), and wow…never realized how much of a Ten/Rose song "With You Gone" (Ryan Cabrera) could be. I could totally see the second verse being the Doc's thoughts (whole song, really, but that verse especially). And before I forget: thanks for all the continued support; your feedback is really motivating, and y'all rock for it._


	13. You Know You'd Miss Me

**Title:** "You Know You'd Miss Me"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #37 (Sound)

**Word Count:** 919

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** What he was really missing became all too obvious in the silence around him, the ghosts of a 1953 memory wisping over his mind.

**Notes:** Set during the bedroom bit in Shakespeare Code and just after Idiot's Lantern.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**You Know You'd Miss Me"**_

He looked down at his drink as Tommy and his father disappeared in the crowd, a grin tugging at his lips as he swished the juice around the glass. He glanced up at Rose, her gaze still trained on the last spot she had seen the father and son, and his grin wavered just a moment. He recognized that look in her eyes; it was the same look every child unfortunately ripped from their father wore whenever they faced something dealing with dads. He knew, in her mind, she was back to all of those birthdays and school functions and various occasions where it would have been so much easier with a father, reliving every moment and wondering how different it would have been if Pete Tyler hadn't died. He threw on a grin and nudged her arm, determined to drag her out of the mood; it pained him when she dwelt on her father, torturing herself when in the end there was nothing she could have done to keep him.

"Gotta say, though," he said, acting as if they had just been in the middle of a rather lengthy conversation and whatever he was to say next was the most obvious, "good to have your face back."

"What?" she asked, glancing up at him. He grinned and nodded towards her.

"Your face," he said. "It's nice to have it back."

"Are you saying that you like my face, Doctor?" she asked suggestively, biting her lip as she tried to hide her grin. He looked up and shrugged.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," he said, shooting her a smile to let her know he was joking. The glance let him know she already had. "It's just…well, think about it. The Wire took your face and brain, so you were just like a puppet. A little Rose puppet. Imagine traveling the universe with a little Rose puppet – can you see that? 'Oh, hello, sir! I'm the Doctor, and this is my friend Rose! Go on, Rose, say hello, then!'"

He reached behind her, turning to the gentleman next to them as he grabbed her arms. He pulled one up and waved, and the man raised a brow at them. He winked at the man.

"'Don't mind the missing face, sir – unfortunate accident with a live Wire!'" he said, and the man hurriedly turned and walked away.

"Oy!" Rose snapped, jabbing her elbow at his gut. He skipped back just before she hit him, laughing at her.

"Imagine it, though! Going 'round the universe, greeting people and not having a face to do it with. Not having a brain to act with, either – I'd be carting you 'round all over the place, and that would just be inconvenient," he said, and she raised a brow at him. "All the trouble I get in, and having to cart around a human puppet, too? That'd just be too much work, thank you very much!"

"Oh, come off it!" she said, grinning as she nudged him again. "You know you'd miss me, and if not me than just another voice sounding off at you. Who'd point out how rude you're being if I didn't have a brain or mouth to talk back at you?"

"Now, see, that I might not mind," he grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows. "No brain and mouth for Rose Tyler to talk back with? No more Rose snapping at me and pointing out when I have no idea what I'm doing? Why, that would be the best day of my life!"

She wrapped her arms around his neck then, catching him off guard as she laid her head on his chest. She smiled up at him, and he gulped.

"I said come off it," she said, snuggling into him. "You know you'd miss me."

He sighed as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair as he did so. He breathed in the familiar scent of her shampoo, relief flooding through him at the knowledge that he did have her back and so wouldn't have to worry about what to do with a little Rose puppet. He kissed the spot just above her ear, smiling as she squeezed him tighter.

"More than you know, Rose," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "More than you know."

–W–

"_Rose would know. That friend of mine, Rose. Right now, she'd say exactly the right thing."_

He released a shaky breath, his eyes sliding close as the memory crept into his mind. With another breath he opened them, scanning the ceiling for answers he knew it couldn't give. Right then, he'd give anything for Rose to be beside him, smiling as they tossed back ideas on what could have caused the apparent witchcraft. She would know – somehow, she always did. But as he closed his eyes again, fighting the all-too-familiar sting with every last ounce of willpower, he realized the truth behind it.

She may know, she may not. She might say something that would get him to stumble upon the missing piece, or she might say something that would get his mind distracted enough that the missing piece would pop up on its own. What he was really missing, he realized then, wasn't the answer to men drowning in the middle of the street. It became all too obvious in the silence around him, the ghosts of a 1953 memory wisping over his mind.

What he was missing was the sound of her voice.

**A.n.:** _I need to remind myself to stop writing scenes about dads/the lack thereof. Punch in the gut every time, it is. Anyway, yeah. Saw Shakespeare Code on Friday (so loving that ep), and after seeing Idiot's Lantern earlier today (ho'shiz I love YouTube) this plunny just had to be written. And would you believe Word doesn't consider 'wisping' a proper word? I'm highly offended at that; I know I didn't make that one up!_


	14. Rosie's Choice

**Title:** "Rosie's Choice"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #99 (Writer's Choice: Dream)

**Word Count:** 1,137

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** Any fear she had had walking into the room vanished as she watched the two men in her life duke it out for her in song. Sixties' swing song, no less.

**Notes:** Hairspray-induced crack. Post S4, where it's assumed that Rose finds her way back and Jack comes traveling with 'em for a bit. Also, you may want to put "Ladies' Choice" on while reading this, and just picture them doing everything listed in your head. It might make it a bit easier to understand what was possessing me, 'cause I've been dieing of laughter here.

**Dedication:** This one goes for Horsie Friend, who pointed out that I was due for a funny one. Hope this has y'all giggling as much as the idea made me. –grin–

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. The song "Ladies' Choice" is from the musical "Hairspray". Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who" or anything "Hairspray".

"_**Rosie's Choice"**_

Rose found the unusual quiet highly disturbing as she walked down the corridor and into the console room of the TARDIS. Now that they had picked up Jack, who had decided to spend his month-long vacation traveling with them, the TARDIS was never quiet. Even if Jack wasn't causing trouble, the Doctor was always tinkering with something. Even the TARDIS herself seemed quieter than normal. All in all, it was giving Rose a very creeped-out feeling as she entered the familiar central room.

The Doctor and Jack were standing on the other side of the room, whispering conspiratorially to each other. It looked like they were arguing over something; judging from the wicked grins, Rose wasn't sure she wanted to know. They looked up at her, their grins turning just a bit more…well, sinister, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. What the hell was going on with them?

She jumped as a trumpet blared through the control room, quickly followed by a '60s swing beat. She looked around, eyes wide and terrified, as Jack ran over to her. He dropped to his knees and slid the rest of the way, grinning at her as he started to sing with the music.

"Hey, little girl with the cash to burn, I'm selling something you won't return!" he sang before jumping up, grabbing her hand as he started dancing in a way that reminded her of a chicken with its head cut off. He waggled his brows at her as he twirled her round before pulling her closer, moving against her in time to the beat. "Hey, little girl, take me off the shelf 'cause it's hard having fun playing by yourself!"

She tried her best not to laugh as he spun away, his grin never leaving his lips.

"Once you've browsed through the whole selection, shake your hips in my direction!" he said, bobbing his hips towards her with a wink and a grin before running back to her. He grabbed her hands and started twirling her around with him again.

"A prettier package you never did see – take me home and then unwrap me!" he continued singing as the beat picked up, and she started laughing as he took her hand and tugged at his collar with it. "Shop around, but little darlin', I've got to be…"

"Rosie's choice," he said, winking at her again as he let her go and started shuffling backwards towards the Doctor. He came to a stop next to the other man, whose grin had grown just the tiniest bit at the display. "Rosie's choice!"

She was expecting the music to cut off then, but her jaw dropped as she saw the Doctor stand a bit straighter, adjusting his tie as he gave Jack a competitive look. She heard a "Whoooo!" echo around the room as the Doctor ran over to her, his eyes sparkling as the grin grew.

"Hey, little girl looking for a sale," he said, stopping before her and tapping his shoulders, "test drive this Gallifreyan male!"

She doubled over than, laughing her head off as he gave her a wink. Any fear she had had walking into the room vanished as she watched the two men in her life duke it out for her in song. Sixties' swing song, no less.

"It's gonna take cash to fill my tank, so let's crack open your piggy bank! Hey, little girl going window shopping, I got something traffic stopping!" the Doctor sang as grabbed her hands and pulled her close, mimicking Jack's dancing as the other man stood on the other side of the controls, laughing.

"Hey, little girl on a spending spree, I don't come cheap – but the kisses come free!" the Doctor paused then, leaning close and smacking his lips against her own. He then pulled back and nodded towards himself, winking again. "On closer inspection, I'm sure that you'll agree…"

"I'm Rosie's choice," he said, letting go and sliding back, once again gesturing towards himself. He started dancing back towards Jack, shaking his bum at her as he repeated the line again. Jack dashed past him, nudging him out of rhythm with a smirk. He took his time dancing towards her as the musical break played out, and as she heard the background vocalists start up with a row of "Ahhhhh…"s he jumped over at her, landing with a twist and a face that had her laughing all over again.

"W-_ow_!" he said before grabbing her hand, twisting her about again. "Hey, little girl on a spending spree, I don't come cheap – but the kisses come free!"

He leaned towards her, ready to mimic the Doctor when his voice cut across the music, shouting out a loud "Don't!" Jack leaned back and threw the man a quick pout before shrugging and continuing his dance.

"On closer inspection, I'm sure that you'll agree…!" he sang, and before he could continue the Doctor raced over to them, nudging Jack out of the way as he dropped to his knees before Rose, taking her hands in his.

"Hey, little girl, listen to my plea – I come with a lifetimes guarantee!" he sang, giving her a pout before standing and pulling her close. "And one day maybe we'll find that baby makes three! It's Rosie's choice!"

She smiled at him as Jack pulled her back towards him, winking at the Doctor as he sang, "I'm Rosie's choice! Rosie's choice!"

The Doctor pulled her back to him, and she had the distinct impression of a game of tug-o-war. He gave Jack a look and pointed at him in warning.

"I'm Rosie's choice, choice, choice," he sang, but then he looked down at her as he tilted her chin up and kissed her, and once again she found she couldn't keep the grin off her face as the music died down and Jack started whining. He pulled back, rubbing his nose against hers as he smiled at her. "I'm Rosie's choice."

"That you are," she said as the music cut off, and she leaned up to kiss him again.

–W–

Her eyes fluttered open, a lingering smile still plastered to her face as she remembered what she knew could only have been a dream. She heard the familiar bangs and shouts coming from the control room, the Doctor shouting at Jack to keep his hypervodka away from the console while Jack whined back, asking the Doctor why he was so against threesomes. She turned to bury her head in her pillow as she started laughing again, the image of a swinging Doctor and Jack permanently burned into her mind.

She also made a mental note to never watch Broadway before bed again – and to ask the Doctor when he became such a big fan of musicals.

**A.n.:** _You really don't want to know what inspired this, though I really want it to happen on the show now. xD __ And wow…it took me this long to get Jack in one of these? I feel ashamed!_


	15. Bedtime Stories

**Title:** "Bedtime Stories"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #46 (Star)

**Word Count:** 2,649

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** She would send her baby brother to sleep each night with tales of her past adventures, never once naming the man she had traveled with. She never thought the night she finally named him would be the one she'd look up to find him listening along.

**Notes:** Takes place in Pete's World.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Bedtime Stories"**_

Rose smiled as she looked up at the twinkling stars, her mind light years away from the upper balcony of the Tyler mansion. She was settled back in a cushioned, wicker chair, her little brother Mattie nestled in her lap. She was still in her work clothes – a smart, black business suit with gray pinstripes and a pink tee underneath, pink Converse hi-tops adorning her feet – after a busy day at the office, one that had allowed her to leave only when she had promised to leave her pager on in case anything developed. Her feet were resting on the railing as she absently ran her fingers through Mattie's reddish-gold hair, smiling as she looked down at him. He was only five, but he was such a handful. He had refused to go to bed until she had come home – nearing ten o'clock PM, mind you – claiming that he wouldn't be able to sleep without a bedtime story.

She smiled at that. While their mum would read him modern stories of talking animals and their dad would regale him with tales from an old collection of the brothers Grimm, he liked her stories best. She would sit out here with him, looking up at the stars as she told him to pick one so she could tell him all about it. It didn't matter that she usually had no idea what star he was pointing to or even if it was really a planet instead of just a star; he didn't know any better, so she could pretend that she didn't, either. The stories kept him entertained, and they tired him out enough to get him to sleep. In the end, that was all that really mattered.

Well, no, not all. She would tell him tales of her previous adventures to amuse him, but it in a way it was therapeutic for her. Telling the stories to someone who believed her without question helped her remember they were real, and that they really did happen, even if it was a lifetime ago. In the end, she had very few things from her home universe, and if not for them it would seem like she had always been here. She had slipped into a fashioned life easily enough; most didn't bother questioning Rose Tyler, Assistant Director of the Torchwood Institute, London base. Well, that's what her office door and company roster listed her as; on the little name plaque on her desk, she simply called herself "Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth". Most didn't question her about that, either.

Mattie shifted in her lap, and she looked down at his wide, brown eyes. He nudged her and pointed to a shooting star.

"I wanna know about that one!" he said.

"That's just a meteorite, Mattie," she said, smiling at him warmly. Thank God for him; she felt horrible saying it, but next to burying herself in work at Torchwood, her baby brother was the only thing that kept her mind rooted in sanity. "Just a rock falling through space. It was probably part of a planet at one time, but not anymore. Don't you want to know about a planet?"

"But we can't see planets, Rose! Just stars," Mattie said, frowning, and Rose laughed. She ruffled his hair and pointed to a star that looked a bit redder than the others.

"See that one, right there?" she asked, waiting for him to nod before continuing. "That's Mars. Some planets you can see, but because they're so far away they just look like stars."

"Mars?" he asked, eyes growing wide and owlish in his wonder. "I wanna go to Mars someday!"

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked, clearly amused. "Mars is a very dull planet, you know – I have that on excellent authority. Don't you want to go somewhere more interesting?"

"Where's interesting, then?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Oh, tons of places," she said. He pouted.

"But Mars has an interesting name!" he said, and she raised a brow at him as she poked his stomach. He giggled and swatted her hand away.

"Oh, Mattie, don't assume a planet will be interesting just because of its name!" she said, laughing. "The most interesting name I've ever heard a planet given is 'Raxacoricofallapatorious', and I have yet to meet a Raxacoricofallapatorian I like."

"Rakoripatorus?" Mattie asked, and she laughed again. She shook her head at him.

"Racks-ah-core-eco-fal-ah-pah-tour-ee-us," she clarified, and he scrunched his nose at her. She leaned her head back and looked back to the stars, wondering which ones she had actually seen. "Don't worry, Mattie – it took me a while to get it, too."

"What planet's your favorite, Rose?" Mattie asked, looking back at the stars with her. A twinkle danced in her eyes as a smile graced her lips.

"I like New Earth," she said, "but only because of the apple grass. Never go to a New Earth hospital, though. Not only do they not have shops, but they're run by evil cat nuns."

"But it's not your favorite?" Mattie asked, and she was amazed at how he had completely looked over the cat people and evil, shop-less hospitals. She closed her eyes, the smile turning wistful as an all-too-familiar face flashed through her mind. She had never told Mattie about the Doctor; no one really talked about him anymore. Her mum, dad, Mickey, and Jake were too afraid of her slipping back into her depression, and really it was too painful for her in the end. Going on six years, and she still couldn't bring herself to say his name. Every time she even thought it a knife would wrench itself into her heart as she was reminded of that cold beach.

But things had been getting better, what with her stories to Mattie. Her smile grew just a notch as she realized that maybe it was time she finally told him about the mysterious man that accompanied so many of her tales.

"I don't know it's name, and I've never been there. By the time I knew about it, it was already long gone – blown up and completely gone," she finally said. She felt him shift slightly, and she could almost feel his look of surprise.

"Then how can it be your favorite?" he asked, and she hugged him close.

"Because the most amazing man I've ever known came from it," she said, her breath escaping as a sigh. "He's the last of his kind – they called themselves 'Time Lords'. I met him in the universe Mum and Uncle Mickey and I are originally from. I was being attacked by shop window dummies in the basement of the department store I worked at, and he found me down there and grabbed my hand, telling me to run. He saved me from the dummies, Mattie, but he saved me from so much more, too."

"What's his name?" Mattie asked, and a lump caught in her throat. She swallowed past it, her grip tightening on him ever so slightly.

"He doesn't have a proper one – not that anyone knows of. We just called him 'the Doctor', because that's what he told us he was," she said. "He took me traveling around the universe in his blue box that was bigger on the inside for a whole year, and then he changed his face, and I thought I'd never want to be near him again. So he took me home for Christmas."

"What happened to him? How did he change his face? Did you stay with him?" Mattie asked, and she laughed as she tapped his head, her eyes remaining closed as she relived the memories.

"His people – the Time Lords – had a way of cheating death called 'regenerating'. He was injured in a battle against his ancient enemies, the Da–" she started, but he cut her off.

"The Daleks!" he said, recognizing the name from previous stories. She nodded.

"Mhm, the Daleks," she said. "He should have died, but to survive he had to change his body completely. He was a new Doctor, but he was the same Doctor he'd always been. When I realized that he was the same, I stayed. I…"

"Rose?" Mattie asked, and she felt his little hand on her cheeks. She scrunched her eyes tighter as she placed her hand on his, biting her lip as she felt the tears on her face.

"I told him I'd stay with him forever, but then the war on my home Earth happened, and we were separated," she said. "I said goodbye to him on a sodding beach in Norway. He's still out there somewhere, back home, but I'm stuck here."

"Is he why you're always so sad, Rose?" Mattie asked, and she pulled him close in a hug, nodding against his hair.

"I love him, Mattie," she said, "and I hate that I'm trapped here, away from him. Oh, but if you could have just met him! You'd love him, Mattie. All of my stories? He was in every single one."

"The goofy man?" Mattie asked, sounding delighted. Rose laughed and nodded, settling back against the chair as she looked up at the stars.

"He saved the world, Mattie. Each and every one of them, at some point or another," she said. "And he's the only man I know who would wear trainers with a suit."

"Is that why you do it, Rose?" Mattie asked, looking back at her shoes. She tapped them against the railing and smiled, nodding.

"My homage to the Doctor," she said, laughing. "Makes sense, though. If you're going to be running for you life on a daily basis, you really don't want to do it in heels."

"What did he look like?" Mattie asked, and her eyes slipped closed again as her smile returned.

"Messiest brown hair you'd ever see," she said, grinning at the memory, "and sideburns. The most wonderful brown eyes, too. Mum said he was too thin for his own good, but he was brilliant. Could eat both our weight in chips and never gain a kilo, too."

"And he traveled in a blue box?" Mattie asked, and she nodded. "With a light on top?"

"Old police box," she said, nodding. "He told me once that it should have been able to look like anything, but the circuit that controlled that had stopped working one day. Well, he said stopped working, but I'm sure he broke it with all his tinkering. He loved to tinker on the TARDIS – that's what his ship's called – even when everything was fine. Was his hobby."

"Police box?" Mattie asked, and she frowned. Her eyes opened slightly, but she didn't look at him.

"Didn't they ever have police boxes here?" she asked, and Mattie shrugged.

"I dunno," he said, and she laughed as she closed her eyes again. "But…he wore trainers? Like yours, only white?"

"Yep," she said, smiling as she tapped her feet against the railing again.

"And a blue suit with pinstripes?" he asked. "And a long brown coat?"

"No, a brown suit with pinstripes, but he did have a tan trench coat. What's with all these questions, anyway?" she asked, finally sitting up straighter and opening her eyes to look at him. Mattie looked to the other side of the balcony, shrugging as he pointed.

"'Cause I thought with that funny box in the yard maybe that was him," he said, and Rose felt her heart stop. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, just in time to see the Doctor frantically motioning for Mattie to be quiet. She snapped her head in his direction, and he froze before giving her a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he said, coughing slightly as he shrugged. "I would've said something sooner, but I was waiting for that 'devilishly handsome bloke' bit to come up, and –"

"D-Doctor?" she asked, afraid to blink lest she discovered he was another hallucination. He looked down, swinging his shoe against the stone floor and pouting as his shoulders slumped. He was perched just off to the side, sitting so close on the railing she was sure she could kick him off. So, with reason being thrown out the window, she unhooked her ankles and did just that. He let out a surprised yelp as he stumbled forward onto the balcony, trying to throw his arms out to break his fall but really just ending up as a heap beside her. Mattie laughed and clapped his hands, cheering about how funny the 'strange man' was.

"Hey, don't encourage her! I don't think I fully deserved that!" he said, pointing at Mattie but giving Rose a look. The way his eyes were dancing proved how unserious the look was, and Rose grinned at him.

"You so did! How long were you sitting there, and you didn't say a word?" she asked, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He grinned cheekily at her.

"I wasn't the one so caught up in descriptions of little old me that she didn't even notice little old me sitting right next to her," he said, winking at her. She opened her mouth to reply, but when she found she had none she just laughed. She reached out a hesitant hand, letting it hover just over his cheek as her laughter stopped. She bit her lip and frowned at him.

"Is it really you, Doctor?" she asked, and he grabbed her hand and placed it against his face, nodding.

"Every last bit," he said, his eyes closing as he leaned his head into her palm. She smiled, her eyes starting to water as she realized he really was in front of her, holding her hand and talking to her like they had never been apart. She turned to Mattie when her brother called her, and her eyes widened as she realized she had forgotten he was still there. She nudged him slightly.

"Go to your room, Mattie," she said. "I'll be there to tuck you in in a minute."

"But Rose! I wanna hear more of the story!" he whined, and before she could answer the Doctor reached over and ruffled his hair.

"Tell you what, Mattie!" he said, grinning. "You go to bed and give me and your big sister here a minute, and tomorrow I'll tell you everything. I'm sure she's messed up some little detail, like pronunciation or customs or –"

"Oy!" Rose said, and he grinned at her.

"Deal?" he asked Mattie, and the boy sighed before nodding. "That's a lad!"

"Night, Rose," Mattie said, hugging her. He hopped off and looked at the Doctor, frowning. "You don't look as goofy as I thought you did."

The Doctor stared after him, sputtering as he disappeared into the lighted hall. A call of "Mummy! I need you to tuck me in 'cause Rose is too busy snogging the Doctor to do it!" echoing into the room. He gave Rose a look as she doubled over laughing, and he hopped up onto his knees as he put a hand on her face.

"Well, as I'm sure Jackie's going to come running in here any minute and slap me back into my own universe…" he said, his grin turning a bit wolfish. "Care for that snog we're supposedly doing?"

"She's only slapping you back there if I can go with you," she said, grabbing his lapels and pulling him closer. He smiled as he crashed his lips against hers, pushing her back into the chair as he stood. He pulled away a moment later – much too soon for either of them after five-nearly-six years of being apart.

"Only way she'd get me gone," he growled before resuming the kiss. The last thing Rose remembered seeing, even behind her closed eyes, before Jackie Tyler's furious screech rang through the room was stars. Brilliant, beautiful, burning stars.

**A.n.:** _Hmmm…that one was weird. xD Really, it was. I'm only mildly pleased with it. On another note: this'll prob'ly be the last one for a while, 'cause I really really really need to bunker down with school. Seriously, if I don't get more finished I'm not going to TLC, and there's no way I'm missing TLC for my messed up school sitch. 'Cause I love TLC (more than tech-nolo-gy!), and I'm not missing it. And now I'm getting redundant, sooo…until then, anon!_


	16. Five and a Half

**Title:** "Five and a Half"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #6 (Hours)

**Word Count:** 1,928

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** 'Don't give up on me again, Rose. Remember? You always have to wait five and a half hours before giving up on me. I'll always come back for you – always.'

**Notes:** Post-S4, but also kinda right after Doomsday. You'll see.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Five and a Half"**_

She cut a lonely figure on those black rocks, nearly blending with them in her black jeans and jacket. The wind whipped her hair about and stung her cheeks, still salty from so much crying. Her eyes still burned from the rest of her tears, the ones she refused to shed just yet. Something was churning deep inside her, telling her that this wasn't quite the time to cry. Not yet, and not for grief.

She was alone on that beach, staring out at the dull sky that seemed to melt into the gray ocean. There was no discernable horizon, much like her future. She knew that, in a few weeks, she would be starting a job at the London base of this world's Torchwood Institute. She wasn't quite sure what she would do there, just that she was hoping to make a difference; he would have wanted her to. After everything he had shown her, she couldn't sit back and watch the world spin away beneath her. She had to keep fighting, for him. If not for him than for herself, the Bad Wolf trapped so far away from her pack. She had to keep fighting, or she knew she would go mad. That was something that the new Rose Tyler would not let happen to herself. That was something he had shown her she could not be. She was strong, even if she had needed a nudge to know it. She would stay strong, for him.

Her eyes closed against the wind, her chest expanding as she breathed in the salty air. How long had she been standing here? It felt so odd, like she had been there for years and yet minutes at the same time. When he had vanished from the beach, she had run to her mother and cried. They had stood on the sand, her mother offering comfort she couldn't rightly bring herself to take. Eventually she had tried to lead her to the old jeep, but she wouldn't leave. Her mother had begged her, telling her that it was well past lunchtime and that she needed to eat, but she had told her no. She wouldn't leave this beach – their beach – just yet. She needed more time.

So they had left her, her mum and dad and Mickey, with a promise to return later that day. She didn't know how long ago that had been; she hadn't really bothered with her watch much. She had wandered for a bit before stopping on those rocks, and that's where she had been for most of her time. Her legs were stiff and her body numb, but she was ok with that. The physical pain helped distract from the emotional pain, and she was grateful for it. If she could focus on her aching joints it was harder to focus on her breaking heart.

She kept standing there, fighting tears and turmoil for hours, no one around to see her grief. She focused on the sounds of the seabirds and the waves and even the little crabs scuttling over the rocks. She focused on everything outside of her, trying to keep her mind from wandering to that little stretch a short run away, where she had last seen him. Maybe it was this blatant refusal of anything human that had kept her from noticing it. Maybe it was her mind shutting itself away from any sound that wasn't related to the crashing surf, trying to block out the pain before it consumed her. If she had paid more attention, she would have noticed the footsteps behind her long before the voice cut across her thoughts.

Then again…her mind was blocking him, too, so would it really have made that much of a difference?

"Rose?" he asked, and her eyes squeezed shut just that much tighter. She tensed as much as her frozen, sore body would allow, steeling herself against what she honestly believed was a hallucination. It was only natural, wasn't it? Imagining the voice of the one you loved after he was ripped from you? "Rose, turn around."

"You're not real," she breathed, feeling her body start to shake. If she had been in her right mind, she would have been amused by that; standing in the cold for hours couldn't make her shake, but one little hallucination could? Something had to be wrong with her priorities.

"Turn around, Rose," he said again, his voice firmer this time, and she shook her head.

"No," she said, rivaling his command with sheer stubbornness. Was this what he had reduced her life to? Arguing with a hallucination on an empty beach? How had she let him affect her so bad? She froze, the action having nothing to do with the cold, as a familiar, warm hand was placed on her shoulder. It was odd; his skin was usually so cool – how cold was she that it was actually feeling warm, even through her layers of clothes?

"Please, Rose," he said, his voice only slightly choked. It was enough, though; that torn voice and warm hand was enough to make her question how unreal this really was. "Turn around."

She still didn't want to, too afraid that he'd vanish again if she did, but the gentle, nudging hand on her shoulder was insistent. He slowly turned her 'round, until she felt the wind on her back. Even then she refused to open her eyes, her mind screaming against the probability of him being real. Her breath escaped as a sigh as the hand on her shoulder slowly moved, brushing against her skin as it was raised against her cheek. She leaned her head into his warmth, the last of her unshed tears pricking against her eyes as she choked down the sob.

"Look at me, Rose," he said, and she barely shook her head. His hand clenched, and she bit her lip.

"I-I can't," she said. If she opened her eyes – if she dared to accept his presence – that was when he would vanish, and she'd be left alone again. "I can't…"

"Rose, please," he said, the raw emotion choking his voice nearly washing her away with the tide. A thumb brushed under her eye, wiping away some of the gathering tears with it. "Why won't you just open your eyes?"

"You'll go away if I do," she said, shaking her head. "You're not real. You can't be. If I look at you, this will all vanish."

"I won't disappear again," he said, and she gasped as she felt his hand slide behind her neck, gently pulling her forward until she was crushed against him. His arms snaked around her, holding her in place as his face was buried against her neck. She felt him breathe her in, felt his body shaking from something other than the cold – just like hers. Her arms were hesitant and slow, but they had soon found their way around him, clinging to him as desperately as he did her. "Rassilon, you're a block of ice…"

'More than you know,' her mind chided him, but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She just gripped him tighter, pulling him closer as she shook.

"You said I'd never see you again," she whispered, and she felt his laugh before she heard it. She smiled as she felt him shake his head, his lips pressing against her neck in an adoring kiss.

"Oh, you know me," he said, his voice forcing light despite the gravity of what she was feeling. "Eat impossible for breakfast, I do. Besides, don't you remember?"

She pulled back, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. He looked the exact same, still grinning and watching her like she was all that mattered. She laughed then, shaking her head. It was so hard to think straight right then, she didn't think she'd be able to remember anything. He untangled his arm and reached for her wrist, pulling it up to show her her watch. Hey eyes widened at the time.

5:30 PM.

She looked up at him again, and suddenly she couldn't fight the smile or laugh as the tears started falling from her eyes. The last of her tears, cried in joy instead of the soul-consuming sorrow that had swallowed her up almost six hours before. He tapped her nose, still grinning as he saw her remember.

"I told you, always wait five and a half hours," he said, and she buried her head in his chest as she remembered the first time he had told her that. That had been another time she had thought she'd never see him again, but thousands of years apart was easier to manage than universes apart. Even still, he had managed it. He crushed her to him again, laughing as he picked her up and twirled her 'round. He settled her back on the rocks, nuzzling his head against hers. "Don't give up on me again, Rose. Remember? You always have to wait five and a half hours before giving up on me. I'll always come back for you – always."

"How did you manage it?" she asked, glancing to the neck pressed against her cheek with a soft smile.

"Does it matter?" he asked, and she sighed as she shook her head.

"S'ppose not," she said, realizing that it really didn't. Still…there had been something haunted in his eyes, something that made her think it wasn't as simple as all that. He was a Time Lord; what was time to him? What was impossible to him, for that matter? "It wasn't five and a half hours, not for you. Was it?"

"No," he answered, and her heart wrenched at the pain in his voice.

"How long?" she asked, but he remained silent. She pulled back, looking at him with torn eyes as she nudged his head off her shoulder. He looked at her, and she almost wished she hadn't; his eyes had always been old and pained, but somehow they seemed so much worse now. She put a hand on his cheek, biting her lip as she wondered if she really wanted to know. "How long, Doctor?"

"Too long," he said, and she realized that was the best answer he would – could – give her. He placed his hand over hers, smiling at her as his fingers closed on hers. "But it doesn't matter. Not now, not when I'm back with you and…"

She smiled as his eyes widened, his grin growing as he pulled her hand away from his face. He beamed at her, as if she had just handed him the answer to the most difficult math problem he'd ever seen. He squeezed her hand and started bouncing on his feet.

"I nearly forgot! I have something I never finished telling you, don't I?" he asked, and she grinned as she bit back the laugh. He took her face in his hands, his grin melting into that smile she knew he reserved just for her, the one that made her insides turn to mush. He rubbed his thumb under her eye again, watching her as he took a steadying breath.

"Rose Tyler," he said, his smile growing until it was well past his teeth, "I love you."

She nodded, smiling as she leant her face into his palm, reveling in the familiarity she had thought she had lost forever just a few hours ago. She looked up at him, her lips curving in a grin as she told him the only thing her mind could offer.

"Quite right, too."

**A.n.:** _Fluff overkill? Maybe, but I like it. I still haven't seen all of GitF, but I did see the last six or so minutes on YT, and that line made the plunnies scream bloody murder 'til I wrote this ("Great! Always wait five and a half hours!"). Now, I doubt RTD would be nice enough to let that actually happen, but we can always dream, right?_


	17. Chronologically Challenged

**Title:** "Chronologically Challenged"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #49 (Club)

**Word Count:** 1,478

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** Rose decides the Doctor needs to spend his days at a senior club instead of running for his life.

**Notes:** General timeline setting (Pre-S3/Post-S4 – your choice!). Inspiration from Fayth3's "Not so Old" shot.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Chronologically Challenged"**_

Mr. Henry considered himself a pretty easy-going kind of guy. He was in his mid-fifties, had a lovely frock of black hair (with not a single gray in sight, mind you), and he was still fit enough to make most university girls swoon. He had a lovely wife and three adoring children, the youngest of which would be starting grade school in the fall. He was fun, amicable, understanding, and oh so very patient – all qualities he thought necessary of someone in charge of a senior center. At least patience was; you had to be patient if most of the people you dealt with on a daily basis couldn't remember where they put their left sock most mornings.

Still, he was pretty easy-going. He took things in stride, all with a grin and a hop-to-it kind of attitude. He got on well with most of his staff, and the center regulars loved him to bits. Old Widow Wilcox would often use her rec time to bake him sweets, and Mr. Bishop loved to join him on a game of chess every Thursday. All in all, it was a good life, and he couldn't be happier.

Neither could his regulars, which was probably why the Yearsley Senior Community Center had been affectionately dubbed "Henry's Club for the Chronologically Challenged".

He had been working there for most of his adult life, as it had been in his family for generations. His father had passed some fifteen years prior, and he had been running the center ever since. In all his time there, however, he had never run into quite as…interesting a scene as the one before him.

"Oh, lookit the crenellations – I love the crenellations!" the young man said as he twirled around, hands stuffed in the pockets of his tan trench coat and eyes roaming the boxy designs bordering the ceiling. The blonde beside him thwapped his arm, sending him a look before turning to face him, a wide, friendly grin on her face.

"Hello, sir!" she said, holding her hand out to him. He shook it without a second thought, his gaze never leaving the strange man in pinstripes.

"Good morning, then," he said, nodding towards her. "Welcome to the center. I'm Mr. Henry, the owner of this fine establishment. Can I help you in finding someone?"

"Actually, sir, I'm here to check in my granddad," the blonde said, her smile never fading. The man behind her stopped his ramblings on the origins of crenellated architecture to point a finger at her.

"Oy, now! I said grand_father_, not grand_dad_! Much more dignified," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"Pardon him, sir," she said, leaning closer and putting a hand up to block her mouth as she winked at him. "He gets a bit cranky in the mornings."

"I see…" Mr. Henry said, nodding slightly. He glanced back at the man, a brow raised as he considered him. "And is he…?"

"John Smith, at your service!" the man said, thrusting a hand out with a mega-watt smile. "This here's Rosie, my lovely granddaughter!"

"You're checking yourself in, Mr. Smith?" Mr. Henry asked, his brows arching farther as he considered the man who had to be at least a good twenty years his junior. Mr. Smith winked at him, clicking his teeth as he did so.

"Oh, yes! Heard wonderful things about this place – the Club for the Chronologically Challenged, yes?" he asked, his grin growing – if that was even possible – as Mr. Henry nodded dumbly. "Well, that's me, then! I'm as chronologically challenged as you can get! Over nine hundred, and if that's not chronologically challenged I don't know what is! Started feeling a bit stiff the other day, so Rosie here suggests I take a vacation, y'know, with the other old fogies 'round my age. 'Course, I tell her that's nearly impossible, since most of the old fogies 'round here couldn't even hope to reach my age – I've almost beaten out old Methuselah! – but she insisted. Said a nice relaxing day of not running for my life and bingo would do me good. You do offer bingo here, right? I was promised bingo, and I'd be highly disappointed if I didn't get it. Though it's not as good as the bingo on Santaran 6 – now, that's good bingo! So how are you, Mr. Henry?"

Mr. Henry gave a slack-jawed look to 'Rosie', who had her hand fisted over her mouth as she tried to fight the giggles. He blinked and looked back to Mr. Smith, whose hand was still extended and grin had yet to fade even in the slightest.

'Oh, you have _got_ to be shittin' me…' he thought in a croak.

"M-Mr. Smith," he said after a long moment, "beg your pardon, but…you don't really seem like you need a senior center."

'A tranquilizer the size of Russia, but not my senior center,' he thought as Mr. Smith frowned at him.

"'Course I do! Over nine hundred – I said that, yeah? I didn't think so at first, but Rosie here said when you finally start feeling your age it's only natural to come to these places, so here I am. 'Course, it was only a few stiff joints, but she insisted – said I don't want to lose any of my bounce," he said, and Mr. Smith looked at Rosie, who had doubled over laughing in the middle of all this. He was beginning to catch on, and he wasn't nearly half as amused; far from it, really. His lips twitched as he turned to face her, a hard glare on his face.

"Miss Rosie –" he started, but she grinned at him.

"Oh, it's just Rose," she said. "He just thinks 'Rosie' makes it sound more granddaughterish."

"Miss _Rose_," he said again, his glare only making her grin grow, "I am not amused."

He didn't miss the look the two shot each other, or the bit lips and stifled giggles. He had no idea what was so funny about that, but he decided to let it slide; their warped sense of humor – or at least that part of it – was not what he was reprimanding here.

"This man is obviously your brother or boyfriend or cousin or mate or something," Mr. Henry said. "He is in no way a senior anything, and is in no way fit to use this center. I might be able to swing volunteer work, but he is most certainly not qualified to be a patron."

"But I'm _old_!" Mr. Smith cried, throwing his hands above his head. "What, do I need to show you birth records or something? Trust me, mate – I'm old! Really, really, really old!"

"Positively ancient," Rose said, smirking.

"That's quite enough!" Mr. Henry said, shooting them each another look. "Obviously you're just here to harass the seniors. If you'd be kind enough to leave now I won't call security, and believe me, I'd like nothing more right now than to see the both of you tossed out on your rears. Now, good day."

"Bu-" Mr. Smith started again, and his glare narrowed.

"Good. Day!" he snapped, and without another word he turned and walked back into the main facility, giving the secretary a sympathetic look as he passed.

–W–

"He wasn't amused," Rose said once the door to the senior club behind them had closed.

"Can you believe him? Not believing me like that? That's rude for you, right there," the Doctor said with a sigh as they walked down the steps and onto the busy sidewalk. She grinned and nudged him.

"Oh, I believed you, _Grandfather_," she said, biting her lip to hide the giggles. He sighed and looped an arm over her shoulders, shaking his head.

"At least somebody still does, _Rosie_," he said. They shared one more glance before their heads tossed back and laughter filled the air, carrying behind them all the way down the alley and back to the TARDIS.

"Bright side?" Rose started once the blue doors were closed behind them. He looked at her, brow quirked in curiosity, and her grin returned. "Might not get you into a senior club, but you'd make a killing on how to get sectioned."

"Not even dignifying that with a response, Ms. Tyler," he said as he withdrew his arm and walked up to the controls. Her grin grew as she followed him, plopping down on the captain's chair.

"Just did, Gramps," she said, and he shot her a look.

"Oy, now, you can cut the grandfather act," he said, pointing at her. "I'm old enough to be just a tad hurt at it, you know."

"Sure thing…" she said, smiling as he went back to fiddling with the controls. She twirled the chair around, grinning as she glanced at him and saw that he was no longer paying her much mind. "…_gramps_."

**A.n.:** _Randomness to the extreme. Ok, I said this was inspired by "Not so Old", but it's also partially inspired by a line in her fic "Familiarity Breeds", where Rose makes a comment about how she could see the Doctor walking into a skin care place and saying he doesn't really know his skin type since he's only had it for a few days. Add that to the old jokes, and I just had this horrible little picture of the Doctor and Rose torturing a senior club owner guy. And thus this was born._

_(…aren't you all happier when you don't know where my plunnies come from? Not as scary as actually looking into my mind. xP)_


	18. Can Never Be

**Title:** "Can Never Be"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #24 (Family)

**Word Count:** 1,776

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** A normal family out for a picnic lunch on a semi-beautiful day. It would have been endearing, if he hadn't recognized the man as himself and the pregnant woman as Rose.

**Notes:** Iono, maybe post-S4? When Martha's come back. ('Cause Donna's funny but slightly…well, annoying.)

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Can Never Be"**_

When he had first felt the familiar shaking, he hadn't wanted to hope. When the readings on the different screens had started going blank, it had been hard not to.

When they had crashed and almost every scrap of power had died, it had been the only thing he could register.

Yet when he ran out of the TARDIS, ignoring Martha's questions and the battered, dead state of his beloved ship, that hope had immediately vanished when he had looked into the sky to find it completely zeppelin-free.

"Doctor!" Martha called, running out to him. She seemed so distant, like she wasn't even beside him. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze refused to leave the cloud-specked sky. His mouth worked, trying to stutter out a coherent thought from the jumble his mind had turned into, but all he could do was watch the sky and hope a zeppelin would appear. After the cracks had sealed, it had been an impossibility to breach the Void and cross to a parallel world. But here he was, standing in a London that was so obviously not his, but was obviously not Rose's, either.

"I-I don't understand…" he finally choked, and though he felt Martha place a hand on his shoulder he still couldn't look at her. He shook his head as his hands twitched; he felt like he was falling, and as hard as he tried he couldn't find anything to grab onto. There was nothing to anchor him from the madness he felt clawing at his mind.

"Doctor, there's something wrong with the TARDIS," he heard Martha say, and he snapped his head to her, an annoyed glare creasing his features.

"Of course there's something wrong with the TARDIS!" he spat. "We fell through reality and into a parallel world – she's not going to work here!"

When Martha's mouth fell open and she was left fumbling for a response, his glare was wiped from his face. He looked down, frowning at her shoes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just…I was hoping…"

He felt her hand on his shoulder again, and he looked up at her to see nothing but understanding looking back at him. It was an honest smile, of the supportive type one good friend would give another. There was no longer any jealousy flimsily masked – just empathy and support. With that one look, he knew she knew exactly what he had dared to hope and that she felt every bit as torn for it as he did. His lips twitched slightly, giving her the best smile he could manage considering.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said, and he knew she meant it. "But…if this isn't Rose's world –"

"Pete's World," he corrected, and she quirked a brow at him. "I liked how it sounded, so I named it Pete's World."

"Right," she said, smiling at his feigned carefree attitude. "But…shouldn't we look at the TARDIS now? If this isn't the right parallel world –"

"Yes," he said, nodding as he turned around to go back into the TARDIS. He froze as his foot hovered above the threshold, both hands coming up to catch the doorframe. He closed his eyes, his head tilted towards the dark interior as a ripple washed through his mind. It was a familiar tingle, though it was one he hadn't felt in years. Not since…

His eyes snapped open as his head jerked up, his breath suddenly very hard to come by. He turned slowly, his entire body shaking as he scanned the surrounding area. They were by a river, on a patch of grass next to a winding path. The city was just across the road next to the path, but a bit farther down…he knew there was a park there. And he also knew, as the tendrils slid over his mind yet again, that someone in that park was pulling off the impossible.

Someone in that park was a Time Lord.

His eyes closed as he embraced the feeling, a chill racing down his spine at the thought. No, it wasn't some_one_ – it was some_three_, three Time Lords amongst a mass of humans in a city park.

He glanced back at the TARDIS, putting a hand on the chipped blue doors.

"Martha, I need you to stay here," he finally said, looking back to her. Her frown deepened, and he gave her an apologetic smile. "She should be fine – just needs some time to charge up. But…there's something I need to check on. I need you to stay here with her, where it's safe. Can you do that for me?"

"But what if you need help?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Please, Martha," he said. "I need to do this alone."

He knew she wanted to fight him, to force herself along in case he was going off to do something stupid. But when she looked at him, her eyes frowning as she realized how desperate he knew he must look, she nodded and turned back towards the ship. He gave her a grateful smile before brisking off towards the park.

It was a short walk on a glorious, partially cloudy afternoon (ok, maybe not entirely glorious – the dark clouds coming from the river weren't really that friendly looking), but his mind wasn't focusing on the weather. He easily maneuvered around the other people on the streets, his eyes darting around occasionally for the signs of anyone familiar. Three Time Lords when they should all be dead. He didn't know how it was possible that he could have missed them, but then again he had missed the Master too, hadn't he?

He shook the thought from his mind, silently hoping he wasn't about to run into an alternate version of his old friend. He didn't think it likely; these traces were new and yet familiar, but they were definitely not the Master.

It wasn't long before he was walking down the paved walkways of the park, his hands stuffed defensively in his coat pockets as he looked around for anyone familiar. Mothers sat near the swings with their children, talking amicably amongst themselves and chiding their young if they'd wander too far away. Couples sat along the many benches, crooning to each other and acting like no one else in the world mattered (he tried his best to ignore all of them, a simmering jealousy raging beneath his chest as he was reminded of how he had landed in the wrong world). Health enthusiasts jogged past him while the dog walkers begged his pardon for the Yorkies yapping at his heels, but none of them were who he was looking for. Just another human in a wide sea of humans, all important yet equally not.

That was when he stalked past a tall row of shrubs and saw them, immediately back-peddling before he could be noticed. He ducked behind the bushes and looked out at the field by the fence that blocked the river, his eyes wide as he realized just who he had been sensing.

A red and white checkered blanket was spread out on the grass, a wicker basket placed just near the edge. A little girl with bright auburn hair sat near the basket, laughing at the man lying on the other side of the blanket. He was propped up on one arm and was holding a string toy of some sort, which he was using to amuse the girl. Beside the girl, smiling warmly at the man, was a blonde woman with a rather large stomach, one of her hands resting peaceably on the bump.

A normal family out for a picnic lunch on a semi-beautiful day. It would have been endearing, if he hadn't recognized the man as himself and the pregnant woman as Rose.

A crackle of thunder rippled overhead, and the family glanced out at the river to see the storm rolling in. The little girl – four, maybe five years, he guessed – squealed with delight as she clapped her hands together, pointing and laughing as he – the other he – went about packing up their lunch. Rose was laughing, grinning at him as he dropped a banana and scrambled to save it before it hit the ground.

"I thought you said we weren't to drop the banana, Doctor?" he could hear over the rumbling thunder, and he grinned as he saw the other him point at her and say something in return. Soon the basket was packed, and he was grabbing her arms and helping her stand. Something cut through his hearts as he saw the other him lean forward and give her a kiss before bending down to kiss her belly, and it shot through him again when the other him picked up the squealing girl and placed her on his shoulders.

"Higher, Daddy!" the girl squealed, and his breath nearly stopped. He turned then, running away before they saw him. He told himself that was it, that he couldn't risk the consequences of them seeing a different him, but in truth he just couldn't stay and watch them. He couldn't watch this agonizing glimpse of what should be but never could.

He didn't know how it was possible; he had always believed that Time Lords were above parallel worlds and therefore couldn't have parallel selves. Maybe something had fractured during the Time War, after they had all died; maybe, as he was the last one, he became just as likely to victimized by the parallel schemes of the universe. He wasn't sure, and he couldn't know for certain, but there was one truth that was staring him dead in the face, and it killed every last bit of him.

There was a world where they hadn't been separated, or he had managed to find her again, or she had forced her way back. There was a world where they were together and happy and even – Rassilon forbid – reproducing! There was a world where he was with her and happy again, and he was there but so obviously not.

He tried to tell himself this wasn't his world, his reality – that this could never happen. He tried to make himself believe that, reminding himself that he could never get back to Rose and of the danger to the universes if he even tried. He tried to make himself care – he really, really did.

But as he rounded a corner and looked back at the path to the park, the TARDIS cutting a sharp contrast directly behind him and the little girl's laughs still ringing in his head, he found it very, very hard.

**A.n.:** _Started this two weeks ago while waiting for SC to come on, and then it kinda straggled as I let other things take precedence. Seems only right that I finish it while waiting for the re-airing of Gridlock (can I say, though, that as much as I want Rose back, Mourning!Doctor is proving to be a total sweetie? I just wanna hug him – more than usual!)._

_My rant of the day: Ok, wisping was one thing – but brisking, too?! C'mon, Word! I know I have a penchant for splicing words and making my own little language, but I know I didn't make those up! Dx (This, m'dears, is exactly why I don't trust Word's grammar/spell check 99.98 percent of the time.)_

_**Note on the Parallel!Doctor:**__ Now, I know there's been something said somewhere about how since the Time Lords were above the parallel dimensions (basically having the technology to go traipsing through them at will) there wouldn't be parallel versions of themselves. However, I was reading a fic a bit ago where the author postulated that maybe since the Doctor's the last of 'em there's the chance that whatever version he was at at the end of the Time War (Eight going into Nine, regeneration caused by the war, right?) would be open to parallels then. Something like how, being the only one, he was just as fixed in a dimension as a normal, non-Time Lordy person and as open to being in a shrimp/no-shrimp dimension switch as the next. (Oooh, big kudos to my fellow geeks who get the shrimp thing. I love you all so freakin' much.) Anyway, I'm sorry if I'm horrible at explaining it, but the idea made sense to me so it's kinda become part of my 'could-be-canon-but-currently-definitely-isn't' possibilities._


	19. Tell Me, Later

**Title:** "Tell Me, Later"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #60 (Drink)

**Word Count:** 878

**Rating:** T / PG-13 (mild language)

**Summary:** "And tell me, Jack," he says, finally turning to look at him as he pokes a finger his way, "that I can't lose her, because if I do I won't stop. I'll survive. And tell me that that will be the worst part of all."

**Notes:** Post-S3, featuring Jack. Based on Jack's revelation that he's the Face of Boe.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Tell Me, Later"**_

The Doctor gives his drink a frown as he swishes around the amber contents in the glass. He tunes out the music behind him, an old copy of Glen Miller that is still just a bit too painful to listen to, as he leans against the bar. He watches the bourbon with mild interest, his mind far away from the dingy bar in downtown Cardiff. He's not thinking about his old friend next to him, or the bubbly redhead on his other side who was trying in vain to get his digits. He's not even aware of the barkeep giving him that concerned look all barkeeps reserve for the patrons that have had just one too many. He's had just one too less, and it shows in his haunted eyes and unfinished first round.

His friend puts his glass down, flashing his best 'I-Know-You-Want-Me-And-So-Does-Your-Mum' grin at the portly, balding man who was busy cleaning glasses behind the bar. He motions for another drink, and the man slowly complies. He's served another drink – the Doctor's long forgotten what he had first ordered, having not really paid enough mind in the first place to his friend's preference – and he begins to nurse it, taking this one much slower than the past six.

Or, the Doctor muses to himself, almost smiling at the thought, maybe it had been eighteen.

He puts his glass on the table and looks at the neon clock on the wall, not really taking notice of the time. Neither of them really have anywhere important to be – just two friends who happened to meet up on one's pit stop, out for a drink to laugh and reminisce about old times.

But there's no reminiscing, and the Doctor's far from laughing.

"_They called me the Face of Boe."_

He has to smile as he remembers the words, though there's no joy behind the gesture. He pushes at his drink and takes a breath, slowly releasing it as he remembers a time long ago that hasn't even really happened yet.

A shop-less hospital with evil cats. A bitchy trampoline and a psycho graft. A small smile and a quiet 'hello' as brown eyes rich as chocolate opened to greet him, really greet him. A giant head in a tank bidding adieu with the promise that they'd meet again.

Tired eyes close against the memories as the blonde takes precedence, an equally weary smile curving his sad lips.

"Jack…" he starts, and he feels his friend look at him. "We're going to meet up in…oh, about five billion years. You, me, and her."

He doesn't have to say her name for his friend to know exactly who he means.

"When we do," he continues, "You'll have a message for me. You won't be able to give it to me until we meet again fifty years later, but I need you to tell me something then."

"Doc, what are you –" he starts, but he doesn't let him interrupt.

"When you see her there, standing next to me, I need you to tell me to never let her go," he says, and his friend is quiet. He feels his eyes boring into him, but he refuses to look. A part of him doesn't think he can. "I need you to tell me to grab onto that hand and hold on for all it's worth, because it's worth so very, very much. To tell her just how much, and to hug her and kiss her every single damned day, and to tell her again even when I don't feel up to it. To not take her to see her mum after we pick up the Bazoolium, to lock her inside the TARDIS the minute I pull her mum out of it to face the Torchwood guards. I need you to tell me to make her operate the other lever, because the one she's on won't work and will take her away. Tell me to never, ever lose her, no matter what it takes or what it costs. Tell me to keep her close and keep her running, because the moment I stop she'll be gone.

"And tell me – and this is most important, Jack," he says, finally turning to look at him as he pokes a finger his way. "The most important part of it all. Tell me that I can't lose her, because if I do I won't stop. She won't be here, but I'll survive. And tell me that that will be the worst part of all."

"Doc…" his friend finally says, and he knows what he'll say even before it leaves his mouth. Neither move, one no longer feeling up to the task and the other not knowing how to offer comfort to an incurable hurt. "You know I can't. Reapers, paradoxes – screwing up the timelines and all that. I can't tell you any of that, and you know it."

"Yeah…" he finally says, his voice as distant as his eyes. He turns back to the bar and downs his bourbon in one shot, his face grimacing as it burns down his throat. He turns back to his friend, the man blurred by the water he feels swimming in his eyes. "But wouldn't it be brilliant if you could?"

**A.n.:** _Another case of the 'I-Have-No-Idea-Where-This-One-Came-From-But-I-Still-Love-It' plunnies. I don't write in present tense often, but it is a fun little trick to try out every now and then. And here's a big honkin' thank you to all the readers; your reviews are constantly amazing and encouraging, and I'm glad to know y'all have been enjoying these._


	20. Home

**Title:** "Home"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #25 (Strangers)

**Word Count:** 1,857

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** Looking at her, feeling her, just being with her – that space left empty by the loss of his home ached just a bit less.

**Notes:** Set after the Doc gets Rose back. Song used can be found on Bon Jovi's _Lost Highway_ CD. And before anyone asks: yes, the song is a bit disjointed. I purposefully left out some lines.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. The song "Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore" © Bon Jovi. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who" or the song "Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore".

"_**Home"**_

Why had he thought everything would be ok as soon as she was back? Just what had proffered that unspoken knowledge, that life would return to normal the moment Rose Tyler was back aboard the TARDIS?

What was it, exactly? Wishful thinking? Blind stupidity? He was a genius – why hadn't he realized a simple reunion couldn't fix years of loneliness, of grief – of simple separation?

She was right in front of him, walking around the room he hadn't been able to step foot into since the war. Her face reflected so much, but there were few emotions he could pick out; he hated that. There was a time when he could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her face, and now he wasn't even sure. Had one hundred and forty-two years really done that much damage to his memory?

He knew it wasn't because she didn't want to come back with him. He hadn't even stepped a foot into her office (executive Torchwood, might he add!) when she had leapt over the desk and tackled him, knocking them both onto the floor. She had kissed him – _kissed him!_ – before he could even say hello, and before he could recover from that she had asked him when they were leaving. So no, she definitely wanted to come back with him.

He wanted to blame it on the length of their separation, but he knew that wasn't it. He had been apart from her for one hundred and forty-two years, but it had only been five on Pete's World. Was it just disbelief, then? Was he just having trouble believing she was really back?

Or was he scared that those five and one-hundred and forty-two years had changed them beyond the point of recognition? She still looked the same, though maybe a bit more seasoned (he hated the way grief always threw shadows on perfectly happy faces, given the proper time), and it wasn't like he had gone and regenerated. Could they really be so different now? Could he really be scared just to talk to her?

"_It might be hard to be lovers, but it's harder to be friends…"_

He looked up then, brow raised at the music floating from the room. Rose was standing over her old stereo, smiling slightly at the song as she turned it up just a bit.

"_I'll just go ahead and lock the door. If you'll just talk to me, baby, 'til we ain't strangers anymore…"_

"Who's that?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as surprised as he felt.

"Bon Jovi," she answered. "They released it a few years ago. Did you know they're almost exactly the same? I was surprised at that."

"_Don't you think it's time we say some things we haven't said?"_

"Ah," he said, shifting uncomfortably against the doorframe. He glanced up to see her smiling at the old photos on her dresser, a shirt in hand and drawer open and waiting. She looked so peaceful, but there was something else there. Something he couldn't recognize. How could he not name it?

"_It ain't too late to get back to that place – back to the way we thought it was before…"_

He sucked in a breath as she turned, a frown on her face. She walked over to him and held out a steady hand, and he looked away. His hands remained stuffed in his pockets, his whole body tense. He heard her sigh as she grabbed his arm, pulling his hand out of his pocket to link fingers with her own. He looked back at her, unsure as he saw the expectant look in her eyes. It was the most obvious emotion there, though he couldn't place the why of it. That, in the end, was what was killing him now; he didn't know her anymore, or some part of him thought he didn't, and she was acting like everything was fine.

No, she wasn't. But she was trying.

"Rose…" he choked, and she pulled him into the room, smiling softly at him.

"_Why don't you look at me 'til we ain't strangers anymore?"_

"Doctor," she said, her voice sounding so sure. He wanted that assurance, but he didn't know how to get it. She stepped up against him, her free arm reaching up to loop around his neck, and soon they were swaying to the music. He wanted to laugh at how simple it all seemed, but there was still that something holding him back. She laid her head against his chest, breathing him in as her eyes closed to the steady _b-bump-b-bump-bump_ of his double hearts.

"Are you ok, Doctor?" she asked, her voice as insecure as he felt. "Are we ok?"

"I don't know, Rose," he said, pulling her closer as he rested his head on hers. He shifted slightly, kissing her forehead before relaxing again. "I want us to be, but…you've grown up, haven't you? And I look at you, and…"

"_Sometimes it's hard to love me – sometimes it's hard to love you, too. I know it's hard believing that love can pull us through…"_

"And?" she asked, and he shut his eyes against the world. He didn't want this, this hesitance and fear and general stupidity on his part. He wanted to enjoy the fact that she was here, in his arms, after so long – but just that thought reminded him that it had been so long, and he was back to not knowing how to approach her. He kept telling himself that it was only five years, not over a century, but then his mind would snap at him that that was wrong.

"Was I right, Rose?" he finally asked, refusing to look at her. "Was I right in coming for you? For all I knew you had moved on. You were happy, and I was busting my way in to ruin it all. Did I do the right thing, Rose? Did I really?"

"_It would be so easy to live your life with one foot out the door…"_

She pulled back, stopping their dance as she gripped his face and turned it towards her. Her eyes were fierce and determined – a look he knew well, one that usually instilled a sense of pride in him, but one that just cut him more that instant. She leaned up and kissed him, chaste yet so full of the love he had missed those long years, before her eyes were once more boring down into his.

"Yes," she said with such a tone of finality that he ached to believe her. Why couldn't he? "Even if it had been twenty years, or a hundred and twenty –"

He winced at that.

"– I'd still want you to come for me. I'd still want you," she said, and she kissed him again, longer and slower this time.

"_Just hold me, baby, 'til we ain't strangers anymore…"_

"But if you were happy…" he started when she released him, but she shook her head. She smiled at him, and for a moment he saw the old Rose smiling up at him.

"Seeing you could only make me happier," she said.

"Even if you were with someone else? Someone better?" he asked, and she laughed at him, gentle and chastising, incapable of shattering the stillness.

"Who could be better than you, Doctor?" she asked. She looked away, just a moment, but he saw the guilt that flashed across her eyes. It shouldn't have made him happy, but he was glad for the recognition. "There were…a few, a year or two after…well, Mum set them up. She wanted me to try to move on – they all did. They thought you'd never make it, but…"

"But?" he asked, and she grinned at him.

"You said 'never say never ever'," she said, and he had to grin himself. "So why should I let you say it either? You said I couldn't see you again, but that was like me saying they'd never ever split us up. I knew you wouldn't quit on me, just like I couldn't quit on you."

"So the others?" he asked, raising a brow, and she shrugged.

"Just to appease Mum," she said. "I was never much of a date, I'm afraid. Most of them said I may look good, but I was either too closed or to reminiscent. They said I was using them as rebound men, and I can't say they weren't right."

He smiled at that, remembering Martha all those years ago at New New York and how she had said the exact same of him.

"I couldn't replace you," she said, looking back at him. "I didn't want to."

"_So let's get down to it, baby – there ain't no need to lie…"_

He smiled at her, leaning down and kissing her. It was just a tiny part of his mind that took note that it was _him_ kissing _her_ this time – the first time in the few hours they'd been reunited. He thought she noticed more, as her hand left his to join her other 'round his neck, deepening the kiss as she pushed closer. He pulled away and crushed her to him, smiling as he breathed in the Rose who was new and yet exactly the same.

"_Tell me who you think you see when you look into my eyes."_

"Are we ok?" she asked again, and he grinned as he lifted her and twirled her 'round. He laughed as he set her down, searching her eyes as he put his hand on her cheek. He nodded, and she smiled.

"We've got a lot to catch up on, but…it's still us. Stuff of legends," he said, and she laughed as she nodded. "It wasn't five years, Rose. Not for me. But…it doesn't really matter, does it? Not now that you're back."

"_Let's put our two hearts back together, and we'll leave the broken pieces on the floor…"_

"Five doesn't even matter, Doctor," she said, leaning her head into his palm. "I'm just glad I'm home."

Was that it, then? That look – that feeling – he couldn't place? And had it been coming from her, or was it something he had projected onto her?

He had been so long without a real home, had he forgotten what that feeling was? Had he forgotten how to recognize it?

Maybe. He was starting to think it was. Looking at her, feeling her, just being with her – that space left empty by the loss of his home ached just a bit less. Maybe she was his home now.

"_Make love with me, baby, 'til we ain't strangers anymore…"_

"I should let you finish up here," he said, reluctant to leave. She looked at him and shook her head.

"Don't?" she asked, and he bit his lip. "I've all the time in the universe to finish unpacking, but…just stay here with me. Don't let me go just yet."

He pulled her close again, kissing her neck as he buried his face in the hollow there.

"I'm never letting go, Rose Tyler," he said, smiling against her skin. "Not ever again."

"_We're not strangers anymore…"_

**A.n.: **_I've had this one in the works since we first got the CD a few weeks ago, but I only just got around to finishing it. Just wanted to get one more up before I leave for TLC. __**ON THAT NOTE:**__ I leave for TLC Monday morning/afternoon. I'll be up at BBC 'til Saturday, then I've got VBS at church the week after. Add to that the need to finish school, and…yeah. Nothing from me for a bit. But I'll be back – just as soon as life stops a'sploding._


	21. Opening Act

**Title:** "Opening Act"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #50 (Spade)

**Word Count:** 1,314

**Rating:** T / PG-13 (For Rose's crude jokes about the Doctor's groupie past.)

**Summary: **In an attempt to make up for the Banana Boiz fiasco, the Doc takes Rose to a Daughtry concert. With a really bad opening act.

**Notes:** General S2 timeline setting. If you don't get the concert comparisons, "Blame the Bananas" can be found in my prof (Word #24 ficlet for the 15 Minute Fic Ehl-Jay comm).

**Dedication:** This one goes out to the band 12 Stones, who landed the slot as Daughtry's opening act at the 2007 Suburbia Nowhere State Fair. It's not that we (meaning they, as I personally thought you were awful) don't love you – we just love Chris more.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. The main act mentioned – Daughtry – is an actual band the author holds no legal rights over – she's just a fan. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Opening Act"**_

It just went to figure, Rose thought distastefully as she rubbed her sore ear.

He screws up with one band, so he decides to take her to a different concert. Only whereas the last group just wasn't her kind of music, this group downright stunk. Well, their opening act did. Hopefully the headliner would be better.

And even though she could smell the booze nearby, she was determined to stay clear of it. Even if a banana margarita would make this band so much better, after the last concert she wasn't feeling up to risking it. Noticing the Doctor's drink-free hand, she noted that he wasn't, either.

"Have I said I'm sorry yet?" he asked, his voice slightly raised against the beating drums and screaming guitar. She raised a brow at him.

"Isn't this s'pposed to be your apology for your last cock up?" she asked, and he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Technically they're not the main act, so I'm not cocking this one up entirely," he said, and she grinned.

"The last song they did? I improvised with old Beatles lyrics," she said, and he stared at her, gob-smacked.

"You didn't!" he said, and her grin grew.

"And at the Banana Boiz? Elton John," she said, and he hunched over as laughs shook through him. He shook his head at her and looked back at the band, a sorry excuse for musical talent called Spade's a Spade. He sighed and propped an elbow on his knee, placing his chin on his fisted hand.

"At least the Banana Boiz were good," he said, frowning. "This lot is…well, _bad_ seems like a compliment!"

"The headliner better be better," she said in warning, and he grinned.

"I'll have you know that Daughtry is rather amazing. American Idol winner and everything – well, he got voted off a bit before winning and that Hicks guy won, and how the country could have thought McPhee was better than Chris I'll never know, but he won in the aftermath. No one really knew when the real winner and runner-up released their albums, but everybody had a copy of Chris's release," he said. Her brows soared into her hairline at that.

"_You're_ an American Idol fan?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"You think I spend all the time you sleep just tinkering on the TARDIS?" he asked, and she nodded emphatically. He sighed and shook his head, looking back to the band onstage. "Not quite up to Banana Boiz caliber, but they're in a league of their own, they are."

"You sound like a groupie," she said, and he waggled his brows at her.

"I am!" he said. "Or rather, was. During their 9995 tour. I helped set up equipment and everything!"

"And did you help out with anything else? Hiding…bananas, maybe?" she asked suggestively, and he took on a rather indignant look. Well, it was his own fault. Everyone knew that groupies shagged the band, and he deserved a bit of heckling for the Bunchezi 9 fiasco and now Spade's a Spade.

"Rose Tyler! I'll have you know that there was no banana hiding of any sort! Tons of banana eating, but no hiding!" he said. He looked up, thoughtful. "Now, if it had been my eighth incarnation…"

"Oy, now!" she said, slapping his arm, and he grinned. She was tempted to make another crude comment about how 'banana eating' could be just as misinterpreted, but he cut her off before she could.

"Point is, I'm sorry," he said. He pointed at the stage, where the lead singer was jerking about uncontrollably. Rose smirked as she heard the girl next to them point out to her friend that he looked like he was throwing a grand maul. "For getting us nearly eaten and for the bad opening act. My judgment's really slipping, isn't it? Then again, no one really pays attention to who the opening is when they order the tickets. I wasn't expected to know they'd stink."

"Calling a spade a spade, there," she said, grinning, and he groaned.

"That was horrible," he said, and her grin grew. She looked back at the stage and laughed.

"Still can't believe you were a groupie to a band that nearly had us for dinner," she said, and he looked put-out.

"They didn't seem like cannibals then…" he muttered, and she snickered. He nudged her and pointed at the stage.

"Hey, look!" he said, and she followed his finger to where a bald guy in a brown shirt was walking out. "That's him – that's Chris!"

"He's cute," Rose said, and the Doctor gave her an indignant look. Her lips twisted up in a rather wicked look. "Way cuter than you, Mr. Bedhead."

"Hey!" he said, and she leapt out of her chair with the rest of the concert-goers to scream and cheer. After the song was over and Chris left the stage again, she plopped back down next to the Doctor. "He is not cuter than me – I'm dead sexy, I am!"

"He's only doing one song? He's the headliner!" she said, ignoring him. "I did like that one, though. At least we could understand what they were singing."

"Well, Chris co-wrote it, didn't he?" the Doctor asked, frowning. "It should be better."

"Did…did he just say this song is about a serial killer?" Rose asked, and the Doctor sighed.

"Sometimes I really hate new rock…give me some Seger, then I'll be happy!" he said, and Rose laughed.

"You like that old time rock 'n roll?" she asked, and he grinned.

"That kind of music just soothes the soul!" he sang, loud enough to get some looks from the people around them who were at least trying to enjoy Spade's a Spade. She leaned in conspiratorially, singing just as loud – if not louder – than he had.

"I reminisce about the days of old!"

"With that old time rock 'n roll!" they both finished before leaning back in their chairs and laughing. The music onstage faded out and they looked towards the lead singer. He quickly thanked the crowd, asking them to scream as loud as they could for the band coming up after intermission. Rose stifled a laugh as she heard the girl next to them ask why they had to sit through an hour of 'crap rock' to get to the good stuff. She leaned her head against the Doctor's shoulder and sighed.

"Daughtry better be worth it," she said, "or you're not off the hook. You probably won't be off the hook if they're amazing, either, but you'll be closer to it."

"Please don't mention hooks," the Doctor said, grimacing as he remembered their last encounter with a particularly nasty hook that had dangled them above a boiling pot. She laughed, nodding as her attention turned back to the stage. Red lights were slowly fading in as a few chords were strummed on a guitar.

"This them, then?" she asked, and he nodded as they stood with the rest of the crowd.

"Oh, you just wait, Rose Tyler – this'll be worth the Spades!" he said, and they joined in with the screeching and hollering. Another hour later, after an encore and more screaming, Rose and the Doctor were making their way through the stands and down the stairs. Once in the clear, she pulled him close and grinned up at him.

"Worth it?" he asked, smiling, and she leaned up and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

"So off the hook," she said, and then she was off with the rest of the crowd, walking towards the exit. It took him a moment to register that she had left him, but soon he was beside her again, her hand nestled comfortably in his. He grinned as he pulled his lips in, smiling at the slight trace of cherry lip balm. Oh yes, it was definitely worth it.

**A.n.:** _I lied. Well, I just didn't realize I put the TLC note in the last one. This is the real last one a'fore TLC, mainly 'cause after the Daughtry concert this wouldn't leave my head. 'Cause I actually was thinking "What would the Doctor and Rose be doing right now if they were stuck listening to this crap band?" while 12 Stones was performing. (Y'know, when I wasn't busy singing Across the Sky songs or taking pictures of the pretty pretty sunset.)_


	22. Right Once

**Title:** "Right Once"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #23 (Lovers)

**Word Count:** 1,518

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** 'No man's worth getting your heart broken for.' 'You're wrong, Jenn. He's the one that is. He'll always be the one that is.'

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday. Pete's World.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Right Once"**_

Torchwood was a funny group to work for. It consumed your life, more so than other jobs; it became all you lived for. Well, maybe not _all_ you lived for – but it definitely took precedence. Rose was fairly sure that was why so many Torchwood employees ended up married or dating or just together in general; really, when did they have time to meet anyone else? In a scary sense, it was like a family. A great, big, deals-with-aliens-on-a-daily-basis sort of family.

It also provided for interesting weddings. Rose could honestly say she knew most if not all of the people in the reception hall, and she was practically best friends with the bride. They had been partners for a bit, while Mickey had been off in Torchwood Ontario for a few months. He had resumed the position upon his return, but Jenn – the bride – still kept close. It was just what Torchwood employees did – especially the field agents. They had to, in order to keep that trust up, and trust was important when they were on the larger, multi-grouped missions. Trust was what kept them all alive.

Jenn had finally settled with Jacob Hicks, shining star of R&D. Jacob was sweet, charming, and funny, and he was completely smitten by Jenn. They had spent the better half of two months flirting before Rose had finally intervened, tricking them into a 'blind date' at a local fancy restaurant. That had probably been her downfall, as Jenn now seemed determined to return the favor. After barely a year of dating, Jacob had proposed, and now – nearly two years later – they were throwing their reception party for all of their Torchwood guests. Jenn was convinced her twist of fate was Rose's fault, and she was more than eager to find Rose her 'special someone' in return.

She had set her up on more dates than she could count, but each one had ended in disaster. Rose just wasn't that great when it came to men, to tell the truth. She didn't really have a reason to be. She was happy with her life as it was, doing good for the Earth and filling her off time with teaching her baby brother all about aliens (her mother just _loved_ that – even more so when his first words had been 'Doctor' and 'TARDIS', in that order).

It really shouldn't have surprised anyone when she showed up dateless to the wedding. Her stepdad had brought her mum, and Mickey had even brought Angela, a lovely girl from Linguistics he had been dating for a few months now. She had been alone, though, and Jenn had been less than pleased to see it. She had been more than eager when she had introduced her to Ben Cummings, the groomsman she would be escorted by during the service (oh, the joys of bridesmaidhood). Ben had been sweet, but she had no sooner asked him what part of Torchwood he worked for then he had quickly admonished her, saying that he was Jacob's cousin and really wanted nothing to do with Torchwood. Understandable, from a general perspective, but her life had revolved around aliens for years now. Ben Cummings was apparently not going to fit into that.

Still, dateless and boyfriendless and all, she was good. She was happy. It was just a bit harder at the company weddings than regular days, that's all.

Sitting at her designated table, she couldn't help but feel a tad wistful as she watched the couples twirling around on the dance floor. She was the only one at the table who hadn't left to dance – even Ben had found another single girl to give a twirl or two. She could see Pete and her mum and Mickey and Angela laughing and dancing to the up-tempo Latin beat, and when the song ended and an old, slow Elvis song played on that little twitch in her heart stabbed just a bit more.

If she thought really hard, she could feel the Doctor pulling her up out of her chair. She could hear his voice, playful and light, telling her to dance with him. She could feel his arms secure about her as they swayed in time to the soft notes, could hear the gentle double-beat of his hearts.

She didn't want to, but watching the other couples contentedly dancing away made it near impossible to not miss what they had. It made it even harder to know that she had never really had it, or at least all of it.

"Blimey, my feet are killing me!" she heard to her side, and she tore her gaze from the dancers to see Jenn sit down next to her. She had a foot propped against her knee, the white stiletto resting ungracefully on the table as she rubbed the sole. She threw Rose a grin before nodding towards the dance floor.

"So, why aren't you out there?" she asked, and Rose sighed as she looked back. She smiled as Pete dipped her mum, who giggled like the schoolgirl she was inside. She remembered a similar dip of her own, so long ago now, and the smile took on that reminiscent edge she wasn't really fighting against anymore.

"Don't feel like dancing," she said, and Jenn sighed.

"Rosie, come on," she said, and Rose gave her a look. She smiled at her, her eyes sympathetic. "Ben's a good bloke. Why don't you just give him a shot? Why don't you ever give any of them a shot, eh? You ever planning on settling down, doing this for yourself one day?"

"I…I don't do well with guys," she said, shrugging slightly. At Jenn's raised brow, she sighed and gestured towards the dancers. "I always do something to mess up, or I pick the awful ones, or…I just don't have a good track record, is all."

"So you gave up entirely?" Jenn asked, brows raising higher at that. "Rosie, love…you'll never find the right guy if you swear them off entirely. You'll never get your Jacob if you don't at least _try_."

"I…" Rose started, but she bit her lip and stopped. She had never talked about the Doctor with Jenn before. Really, apart from the stories she told her brother, she hardly talked about him at all. It made things easier. It made her family think she was better, and she was. Almost always.

"Rose?" Jenn asked, and she smiled as that Glenn Miller song replaced Elvis. Her eyes closed and her mind went back to the celebration of life and survival, that twirl around the console with her first Doctor. It was a happy sigh when the breath came out, one full of promise past and untold future.

"I got it right once," she said, her eyes still closed. She smiled as her mind shifted to a similar dance, one with her new New Doctor after the hospital on New Earth. Same song, new Doctor – same rush of butterflies as he dipped her and gave her a mega-watt smile bright enough to blind the sun. "Just once."

"What?" Jenn asked, and she turned to look at her, eyes opening to reveal a slight mist over the brown orbs. She shrugged helplessly, and Jenn suddenly felt so horrible for her friend. She felt horrible that someone as lively as Rose could show so much sadness and grief – so much pain.

"Every other time was a wreck," Rose continued, laughing slightly. "He was good, though. I guess it never really works 'cause I'm always comparing 'em to him. He was…"

"Rose?" Jenn asked, and Rose's smile turned a bit brighter as she found the word.

"Brilliant," she said, nodding. "He was brilliant. Absolutely fantastic."

"Well," Jenn said, forcing her voice to sound disapproving, if for no other reason than the hurt she saw mirrored in Rose's eyes just moments before, "he obviously wasn't _that_ fantastic, if he let you get away."

But Rose just smiled at her, shaking her head in that sorry kind of way you do when telling a child why they're dead dog can't play anymore. It was unnerving and comforting all at the same time, and more than a part of it scared Jenn.

"No," she finally said, her voice firm. "He didn't…it's not like that, Jenn. Sometimes the universe just doesn't let it work, you know?"

"Rosie…" Jenn sighed, pulling her friend into a hug they both knew she needed. But Rose couldn't help the thought that it wasn't the hug she wanted, or at least the person she wanted it from. She pushed her back and smiled at her, her eyes determined. "He's the prat. 'Cause universe or not, he's a prat if he stopped fighting for you. Some things are worth fighting for, and I know you've got to be one of 'em. If he let you go…he ain't worth it, love. No man's worth getting your heart broken for."

"You're wrong, Jenn," Rose said, shaking her head again as she brought her in for another hug. "He's the one that is. He'll always be the one that is."

**A.n.:** _…weeeell…after the Sugarland-induced adrenaline rush (totally missed Daleks in Manhattan for it but SO FREAKIN' WORTH IT, impromptu rainstorm and all!), the caffeine rush, and the slight sugar rush (Sonic is love!), I was having a bit of trouble sleeping. So I decided to finish out one of the ideas I had tucked away for later. And voilà, here ya' are._


	23. Rose's Doom

**Title:** "Rose's Doom"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #28 (Children)

**Word Count:** 590

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary: **She had known she was definitely and irreparably doomed the moment he gave her that look. The one he got when he wanted something, usually a cuppa or an ice cream or a certain trip or a horse…or a baby.

**Notes:** Set after the reunion. Oddly enough, somehow inspired by the movie Independence Day (kudos to those who get what bit, though it's kinda majorly obvious).

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Rose's Doom"**_

He had mentioned it once before, but it hadn't really sounded serious. Well, it had sounded serious, but it was so off-hand she hadn't known how to react, and when he had just brisked along like he had never said anything – in his general fashion – she had just let it go. It was another one of those things that she knew he might not be able to talk about yet, and she was ok with that. He was healing, in his own way and time; if he wanted her to know he'd tell her eventually.

So, after that first mention, they had never spoken of his fatherhood again.

Really, for the most part she just forgot about it. She never fully dismissed the idea, as she was curious to just how much of a father he really was, but it was tucked away in the backs of her mind where she didn't often visit. She had never really seen him with many kids, either, so it wasn't like she had any inclination to remember or any chance to even picture him as a father.

It was a bit hard to do that, too. She couldn't see her first Doctor as a dad, not in the least bit. He was always either too moody or too…'Crazy Uncle You Mildly Entertain at Reunions While Really Thinking He Should be Sectioned'. Definitely not dad material. Her current Doctor – the one she was now so insanely attached to, the one who had forced his way through the walls between universes just to be with her again – was a bit too…Crazy Big Brother-ish to be a dad. He was too much like a hyperactive nine-year-old himself, so she couldn't really see him raising kids, either. Not that the thought wasn't appealing, but…

Yeah. She really didn't see _him_ having the patience to change a nappy. Though, considering he hardly slept, a baby's constant three AM wailing might suit him fine.

But since arriving on the parallel Earth – Pete's World, as he insisted on calling it – a day prior, he had shown a slightly more paternal side that she hadn't expected at all. From the moment he had met her eighteen-month-old brother, he had switched into what she was beginning to call 'Doctor Dad Mode'. Her mum had been more than impressed at his seemingly natural parenting skills, and she had made more than a few comments about her future grandchildren. She had been more than a bit wary at that.

But really, she hadn't realized the full potential of her doom until later that night. Before, it just seemed like a possibility. It was a potential doom, one that may or may not play out. One that undoubtedly would be nice, but was just a bit hard to imagine. One that was…well, quite frankly it just didn't seem plausible.

She had known she was definitely and irreparably doomed, however, the moment she walked into her brother's nursery to find the Doctor sitting with the child on the floor, cooing and making faces and other silly gestures adults usually made towards babies. It only solidified the moment he noticed her and turned towards her, the look in his eye sparkling and mischievous. It was that look he got when he wanted something, usually a cuppa or an ice cream or a certain trip or a horse…

…or a baby.

He looked right at her, his grin as manic and wide as possible, and said, flat out, "We really have got to get us one of these."

**A.n.:** _As for her reaction…well, you decide. Or pop back to "The Tyler Slap". xP (Not serious, there – I really don't intend for any of these to be related. Some might work out that way – like "10 Hours" and "The 'Worse'" in my Arc x Yucie 30 Kisses stories – but they're not usually intended.) Anyways…I bid you adieu 'til after TLC!_


	24. Bananas Unite

**Title:** "Bananas Unite"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #13 (Yellow)

**Word Count:** 791

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary:** In all his nine hundred or so years, he had never heard anyone sing a banana song. Guess it's up to Rose to enlighten him.

**Notes:** Whoever said Christians are stuffy obviously never went to bible camp. Or met a Christian who fully understood why we sing and praise and give God the glory, glory (oh you know you so clapped 'n sang when you read that!) – 'cause really, when you've got that kind of joy, you just can't stop. Thanks to Cheryl Fawcett for teaching us this. (Seriously – Cheryl gets up for the session and does the Banana Song, Don starts singing the Bunny Song ("The bunny, the bunny – oh, I ate the Bunny!" – oh yes, I'm a total Veggie Kid!), the Strayers and Matt are doing the "The RIIIIDE OF YOUR LIIIIFE!"/"Whoo-hoo! –leg kick–" skits, Andy's doing the "We're here to fix ya' car la la la la la la!"/"GO GREMLINS GO!" anecdote – how can anyone find us stuffy? xP And for those wondering…actually, yeah – it all tied in with their session messages. God's awesome like that – He works silly into serious all the time.)

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who". The author also doesn't own the "Banana Song", which she has been told originated at Camp Ian in Michigan (if that's inaccurate, she apologizes).

"_**Bananas Unite"**_

It had been a rather stressful day. They had been forced to run from two angry villages before breakfast, the toaster had exploded all over the kitchen when they finally got to eat, the TARDIS had broken down right before lunch and had insisted on electrocuting the Doctor every time he tried to fix her, Rose had been slammed with food poisoning thanks to a questionable chip shack they had visited for lunch, and now they were trapped in the middle of a rather smelly swamp while the TARDIS finished being tetchy for the day. So really, the Doctor was just as moody as his ship. The only one you'd really want to talk to upon stepping foot on the TARDIS was Rose, who – after a miracle cure from the med bay – was feeling totally five by five. In other words, she was the only one who wouldn't snap your head off just for asking "How's the weather?".

Understandably, the Doctor was more than looking forward to a late afternoon snack in the – hopefully – peace and quiet of the kitchen. Assuming he stayed clear of all the appliances. This made the snack even better, as he was able to grab a banana from the basket on the island and just plop down at the table. He threw his feet up on the tabletop and reached up to the stem, savoring the smell of unpeeled banana and relative peace. It was amazing how calming a banana could be, really.

The blessed peace was shot down in a blazing inferno mere seconds later, however, when Rose decided to walk past the open kitchen door. She spotted him sitting at the table, smiling lethargically at his unpeeled banana, and the memory of a childhood visit with a States-side cousin hit her. She ran over to the Doctor and grabbed his banana, eliciting a yelp of protest. He gave her a kicked puppy sort of look, but she just grinned back. He slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, deciding that pouting seemed a _very_ mature thing to do.

With the banana in one hand and her arms at her sides, she took a few steps back from the table and gave him a grin. He raised a brow at her, somewhat curious as she giggled and nodded.

"Bananas…uuuunite!" she cheered, slowly bringing her arms up to clap around the banana and jumping her legs apart into a stance as she finished saying 'unite'. His brows soared well past his hairline as she brought the banana before her and acted like she was peeling it. "Peel banana, peel banana, peeeeeel banana!"

"What are you –" he started, his voice caught between terror and amusement, but she plowed on as if he had never said a word. She once again threw her hands over her hand, clasping them together while taking care not to squish the banana.

"Peel it down the left!" she cheered, jerking her hands down to the left.

"Peel it down the right!" she continued, jerking her hands down the other way. He opened his mouth to protest, but she wasn't done.

"Peel it down the middle…" she said, bringing her hands down to hold the banana before her mouth, "and _umph!_"

He laughed as she jerked her head forwards like a chicken, acting like she was biting the banana.

"Take a bite!" she said with a grin as she tossed him the banana. She looked up and started jumping around in place, turning as she chanted, "Bananas bananas bananas bananas bananas!"

"We're bananas for bananas!" she finished, finishing her jumping as she faced him again. She jumped up one last time, throwing her arms above her head and again putting her legs in an attention-esque stance as she grinned manically at him. She watched him expectantly, but he just stared at her. When she raised a brow at him, he slowly put the banana on the table and began clapping. Her hands lowered and she placed them on her hips, frowning.

"That all?" she asked, and he laughed.

"Where the blazes did you learn _that_ one?" he asked, and her grin returned.

"My cousin Abby – who's ginger, by the way," she said, winking at him as he frowned, "used to go to bible camp when she was younger. Some place in Michigan – she's from the States. She'd visit every few summers, and that was one of the camp songs she taught me. I haven't sung it in years, but every time I see you with a banana…well, I just couldn't stop myself this time."

He grinned as he glanced at his banana. As much as he wanted his nice, quiet little snack…

"So…how does it go again?"

**A.n.:**_ What? Bananas are yellow! (Lamest justification ever, I know.) Anyway…really had a blast up at TLC. And when Cheryl did this before her message on Wednesday…well, really. I can't look at bananas anymore without saying a Banana!Doctor quote. How am I s'pposed to react to their song? I've heard this song might be longer, too, but that was the bit Cheryl taught us. And that's where she said it originated (Camp Ian, Michigan – seriously, how awesome are bible camps?), so if I got the song/origin wrong, I do apologize._


	25. Just Can't Say It

**Title:** "Just Can't Say It"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #81 (How?)

**Word Count:** 2,383

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** There are some things the Doctor just can't say, and he probably never will, either.

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday. Songfic – but to fit the story the first half of the second verse was excluded. And the final chorus was taken out to keep from being overly repetitive.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. The song "How To Say Goodbye" is performed by Michael W. Smith. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who" or the song "How To Say Goodbye".

"_**Just Can't Say It"**_

He had been warned.

He had been warned by the Beast that she would leave him, but had ignored it. He had told her to ignore it, that the devil was just using their basic fears against them. When it died and they lived, he had told her it had lied. She believed him, and they moved on. They forgot.

They kept bumbling through their fast-paced, reckless life, and they had stood on a prehistoric planet watching an orange sky as she promised him forever. He knew better, but he had believed her – just because he wanted to. He threw logic and reason out the window and grabbed onto her hand, smiling as he let himself slip into ignorant bliss. They would be together forever, and they'd be happy.

He hadn't believed it as much when he had slipped the universe-hopping device over her neck and sent her away. He was okay with giving up their happiness, if it meant she would live. He was okay with it.

But she had come back, and she had flat-out denied that submission. She stared at him with those eyes of hers, telling him that she would never leave him. Never. And he had believed her again, just because he wanted to.

He couldn't believe it now, now that he was walking towards the blank wall at the far end of the room. He wanted to rush the wall, to scream and cry and pound on it.

"Bring her back! Bring her back!"

He wanted to rage against the Universe. He wanted to kill whoever was up there deciding the path of life. He wanted to kill himself for being trapped there without her. No, not for being trapped without her – for losing her.

He wanted to kill himself for wasting his time with her.

But all he did was walk towards the wall, stoic and somber as a condemned prisoner on his final walk to the chair. He didn't scream. He didn't rage. He didn't even cry.

He just placed his cheek against the wall, a hand lifting to press his palm beside his head. He grit his teeth, forcing back tears he refused to shed as he stared at the side wall, not really seeing it as he groped about for a glimmer of feeling from the other side. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. And it was enough to make him blink before forcing himself away. If he didn't he'd never leave.

He didn't know how he had ended up here, at the top floor of Torchwood Tower alone. He didn't know how he had lost his forever. He didn't know how he could accept it, or how time would keep moving on without Rose Tyler.

But really, he just didn't know how he would keep moving on without her.

_Tell me when the time we had slipped away_

_Tomorrow turned to yesterday_

_And I don't know how_

"Her name was Rose."

It was a simple statement, an honest answer to an innocent question. After what she had gone through that day, he had thought Donna deserved a little honesty. So when she asked, he had told her. And then he had slipped back into the TARDIS, sending her off into the vortex and as far away from Earth and Christmas as he could get.

Sending her as far away from the reminders as he could get – as far away from the tears as he could get.

He had shed one – one solitary tear after his time had run out on that beach. He hadn't had time to shed any others. He didn't know if he wanted to, though ignoring them seemed almost like an insult to her memory. She had cried for him. Right in front of him, where he could see every salty track race down her face. She had cried for him and for them and everything they could never be. Why couldn't he do the same for her?

He hadn't even cried after the war. The TARDIS had sensed her absence, her non-existence, the moment he had stepped back onto the ship. She had known – but how couldn't she? The two were linked through the vortex – they had stared into each other and had joined in a way that should have been impossible. His old ship had probably realized the loss the moment she vanished from the universe.

And thus it had offered the hope. There was a gap left, small and growing smaller. It wasn't much, but he had refused to give up hope. She had taught him that.

In the end, he knew the truth of it. The hole was too small, and the universe was still closing, healing itself. It was the last gap, and soon it would vanish. He couldn't pull her through, and he couldn't go to her – not without destroying everything. But it was just big enough for a projection. He could at least say goodbye.

It had ripped him, clawing at the old wounds of loss she had so carefully healed. Did she even know she had saved him? But he still wouldn't cry. How could he go to her, even insubstantially, a blubbering wreck? That wasn't how she should remember him. He had to be strong, just like she had always been for him.

One tear, after the gap closed. Just one. In a way, it was all he could afford. He hadn't even wept for the loss of his planet. So much death, and how often had he cried for it?

Over nine hundred years of suppression, and it took the bride from hell to make him release it. Over nine hundred years, and all it took was a shopgirl from East London to break him enough to bawl openly.

Part of him hated himself for it. He never mourned a single Gallifreyan like he mourned her. And she was just a human.

_Tell me what can stop this river of tears_

_It's been building up for years_

_For this moment now_

There was one great difference between Martha Jones and Rose. Well, there were many, but one stuck out above all others. One that made them so painfully not the same it almost hurt to have the almost-doctor around. And it was so very, very simple.

Martha never needed him.

She was resourceful and handy to keep around and craving adventure, but she didn't really _need_ him. She could take care of herself; she was brazen and brassy and very competent. She didn't need to learn how to jump, how to be the Martha she should be. She already was.

Rose had.

At first, at least. Rose had always been able to stand on her own, to jump without fear, though she didn't always know how. She could fend for herself, but he had shown her how to put the knowledge into action. Even when he didn't realize it, he had helped her. She had the wings. He just gave her the nudge.

She had needed it, though. Stuck with Mickey, she never would have become the Rose she should have been – the Rose that had been taken from him.

But somehow, somewhere along the twisting road, she had embraced it. She became her own Martha Jones, but better – she had become Rose Tyler. Defender of the Earth.

He remembered the exact moment he had realized it, too – moments, if you counted both bodies. Nine had seen it in the swirling eyes of the Bad Wolf. Ten had seen it in the nervous girl speaking before an army of Sycoraxian invaders.

And he had continued to realize it the longer she was with him. Facing down a werewolf, Cybermen, Satan-possessed Ood – a TV salesman from 1953. Even if it put her in danger, she was willing to stand.

He had promised Jackie once that he'd protect her. In the end, though, she hadn't really needed him for it. Not anymore. Maybe that's what made knowing he couldn't anymore easier.

_Here I stand, arms open wide_

_I've held you close_

_Kept you safe 'til you could fly_

Some days were harder than others – that's just how it went. Meeting Shakespeare had been hard – so had been returning to New New York without her. (He never had told Martha the real reason they went to the slums was because he could no longer handle the smell of apple grass.)

Today was another. Sitting in the TARDIS, his feet propped on the console as he leaned back in the captain's chair, he couldn't help but think that. Martha was visiting home, doing a load of wash. Without another voice to echo off the coralesque walls…

Would he ever see a day where he didn't miss her? Where a quiet moment of solitude wouldn't take his mind back to her?

Martha was getting frustrated – he knew this. She was tired of being compared – and of not measuring up. She had yelled at him before leaving, making a sharp jab at "the Infamous Rose" before storming out.

"Just say goodbye already – it's what normal people do!"

But he wasn't normal. He didn't know how to say goodbye to her, and even if he did…he wasn't quite sure he wanted to. Not yet.

He wanted Martha to understand, but he knew she never would. How could she? She had never stared into hell, watching the one she loved fall towards death. She had never even known Rose, so how could she understand his grief? How could she even try?

Most days were good. Most days it was easy enough to throw on a fake smile and pretend the universe was great. Most days he could laugh and run, lying to himself as he reached for Martha's hand. Most days he almost believed he could forget.

But today? Just wasn't one of 'em.

_Tell me where the road ahead is gonna bend_

_And how to harness up the wind_

_And how to say goodbye_

It was unfair to say it, but the TARDIS seemed empty without Martha. Emptier, at least. She always seemed empty after the war, but Martha had helped to lessen that. Hearing another voice, having someone to bounce questions off of and ramble to…having someone throw their clothes about the console room. Well…Martha had never been that bad – maybe a coat or two, but nowhere near as bad as Rose. Rose had used it like a second closet. She still had a jacket or two hanging on the railings of the upper level.

Now that it was just him and the TARDIS again…her quiet hums just weren't the same. He could sense it – tell that she was still in mourning. Really, so was he. They both missed her, but he didn't want to anymore. He didn't want to feel the gaping whole next to him where she should still be, or feel the sting of tears every time he saw one of those jackets he couldn't bear to move or even touch hanging on the railings. He didn't want to feel the ache in his hearts every time it got quiet enough to let his mind wander back to her. He didn't want to need her like he did.

He didn't want to be trapped a universe away from her. He didn't want to know there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't want her gone.

His legs had moved him of their own volition, carrying him up the steps until he was at the top landing, staring at the pink jacket that had fallen to the floor in one of the bumpier landings. He bent down, kneeling beside it as a hand hesitantly moved out to grasp it. He brought it to him, his whole body shaking as he pressed the fabric to his face, closing his eyes as that space next to him became just a bit more pronounced. He breathed in the familiar scent, still strong even after so much time had passed, and his chest twinged at the stab. Even so, he couldn't put the jacket down. Not now.

He looked around at the empty TARDIS and sighed before turning back to the jacket.

"Just you and me now, old girl," he said quietly to his ship. She hummed softly, and he closed his eyes as he felt her reach out to him, her consciousness wrapping around him in a gesture of comfort. He looked down at the shirt and smiled at it, as if it was Rose. As if she was still beside him and could hear every word he was saying.

"I should put your things away, shouldn't I? But you might still need them…" he trailed off, his eyes closing at the familiar prick of tears. He laughed slightly, rubbing at his eyes as he shook his head. "I'm talking madness – why would you need them now? But…I can't say it, Rose. I couldn't say what I wanted to, on the beach, and I can't say what I need to now. I can't tell you…"

He stopped, gulping against the burning lump. He shook his head, the word not even able to breach his mind. He wouldn't let it. He had told her it was impossible, but he wouldn't admit it to himself. Not yet.

"I won't stop looking, Rose," he said. "You've made me a wreck again, and…I won't stop. Not 'til you're back here and able to fix it. 'Til then, I just can't say it. I can't. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

The TARDIS hummed again, and he wondered who he was apologizing to – her, himself, or maybe even the ship? She was just as involved in this as either of them. He stood, heading down the steps with the jacket still in his hands. He put it back on the hook near the door, smiling slightly at it before going back to the controls and setting a new course.

He wouldn't say goodbye to her – not yet. Partly because he couldn't, partly because he didn't want to. Partly because he knew, the moment he did…well, his dancing hadn't caused the universe to implode. Maybe that could.

_Tell me how to fill the space you left behind_

_And how to laugh instead of cry_

_And how to say goodbye_

**A.n.: **_Been working on this one for a few days before I left for TLC; mum got _Stand_ for free at FCS for something (I think for pre-buying _At the Altar_ (eighteen more days – totally psyched! -is a major Casting Crowns fan-), but I'm not sure), and I totally fell in love with this song. Smitty's got a good voice for sad songs. Myep._


	26. That Old Shirt

**Title:** "That Old Shirt"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #16 (Purple)

**Word Count:** 925

**Rating:** K / G

**Summary: **It was just a shirt. An old, purple, never-gonna-be-worn-again shirt. But to him, at that moment and so many others just like it, it was her. And it was enough to get him through – for now.

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday. More or so likely set sometime during the beginning of S4.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**That Old Shirt"**_

"Well, it's good to see you've tidied up a bit in here," Donna said as she looked around the console room. He glanced up from his seat on the captain's chair, where he was busy playing with a Rubik's Cube. He frowned as he saw her watching him, the frown quickly turning into a sheepish grin.

"Sorry?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes before gesturing to the room.

"You cleaned up," she said. "Don't have any shirts randomly lying about now, do ya'?"

His face darkened slightly, but he shook it off. It was getting easier, snapping out of those moods, as more time passed. It was still hard, but…it was easier. He shrugged and looked back at his toy, grinning as he clicked the last block into place.

"Yeah, well, it's been a while," he said. "Can't keep all my former companions' things lying around, can I? The old girl'd get junked up rather quickly if I did that."

"I take it Rose was a slob, then," Donna said, grinning, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"No," he said quickly, and she frowned. He tossed the Cube behind him, and the TARDIS hummed in protest. He hopped up from his seat and stretched, forcing a yawn as she raised a brow at him. "Well, we've had a rather exciting day, and I'm beat! How 'bout you? Yes? Good! We'll get some sleep, and in the morning…well, anywhere, really! Night, Donna!"

She watched as he rushed off and sighed. It had been a good year since she had last seen him, but she knew that was no way to properly gauge how long he had really been gone. They were in a time machine, after all. Part of her wondered if he was any closer to closure when it came to his lost friend, but going from the looks he was trying so hard to mask around her…she really didn't think he was.

–W–

The door closed quietly behind him, and he looked around his darkened room with a sigh. It was good to have Donna back – even better to have another voice inside the TARDIS – but…well, every once in a while, she'd say something. And for all the progress he'd made in coping with Rose's absence, he'd go right back to that blasted wall in Torchwood Tower, to watching her fly towards the Void with millions of Cybermen and Daleks. He'd go right back to that sharp ache that was slowly consuming him.

"_Don't have any shirts randomly lying about now, do ya'?"_

He looked down at his left pocket, a smile curving his lips as he reached inside. After a moment of fishing, his fingers brushed over the familiar fabric, and he pulled out her old purple shirt. His smile softened as he saw it, and he only briefly wondered what Donna would say if she knew how close the shirt really was. After that first day, when she had waved it before him and demanded to know who else he had 'abducted', he had shoved the shirt into his jacket pocket. He had forgotten it for a while after that, but he had found it again one night while rooting through the pockets for something else, and he had nearly broken down upon the discovery. At the same time, it had been oddly comforting, and he found he couldn't not keep it there. He wouldn't go to her room, and it was kind of nice having that little piece of her with him wherever he went.

Plus, it made a rather nice pillow most nights.

His lips twisted again as he wondered what Rose would say, if she could see him now. She used to call his leather jacket his 'security blanket', and she had been more than pleased to see him hang it back up in the wardrobe after his regeneration. It had been almost tempting to pull it back out after the war, and he had found himself standing in front of it on more than one occasion, considering just that. But then he would hear her voice ghosting through his ears, and he would remember her smile when she told him how glad she was he was turning in the security jacket, and he couldn't pull it down. He couldn't do that to her; even if she never knew it, he couldn't disappoint her like that.

But wasn't that exactly what he was doing with this old shirt? It wasn't his coat, but…it was the same, in a way. He held onto it to remember her, but it was also a shield, of sorts. It had been her favorite shirt, and there were so many good memories attached to it...most nights, it helped him forget the sight of her falling. Most nights it helped him remember that kiss, even if she had been possessed at the time, and a million other happier times where they were together and running and…well, happy.

He toed off his Chucks, kicking them over by his dresser as he made his way to the bed. He yanked off his tie and shrugged off the jacket, tossing them over by his shoes as he collapsed into the orange duvet. He brought the purple shirt to his nose, smiling as he breathed in the familiar scent of Rose.

It was just a shirt. An old, purple, never-gonna-be-worn-again shirt. But to him, at that moment and so many others just like it, it was her. And it was enough to get him through – for now.

**A.n.:** _You know, I feel rather silly right now. This theme had me stumped for ages, and then I randomly saw a pic of Rose in that shirt and remembered Donna waving it at the Doc, and I remembered he grabbed it from her and it kinda disappeared. I don't remember him putting it down anywhere, and when I remembered the shirt was purple and I was stumped for a purple theme…well, it seemed rather obvious at that point. So yeah…I feel really, really silly._


	27. It was You

**Title:** "It was You"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #77 (What?)

**Word Count:** 2,803

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary: **'Have you ever lost anyone?' 'Yes. Everyone, in the fight at Canary Wharf.' 'Me, too.'

**Notes:** Post-Martha/Donna companion tenure, so prob'ly post-S4.

**Dedication:** This one goes to TennantFangirl, who's working on an awesome little fic called My Final Goodbye, the first chapter of which is the main reason behind this ficlet. Thanks for the inspiration, TF.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**It was You"**_

She had been a member of Team TARDIS, as the Doctor liked to call them, for a week now, and a part of her still wasn't sure why she was there. She didn't know him – he was just some man that had swanned into her life one day. She had gotten mixed up in a nasty bit of business with a boy that was actually an orange-skinned alien from some planet off in some nebula somewhere, and she had been faring well on her own before he stumbled in, claiming to be there to rescue her. It had taken him five minutes to get them both captured and chained up with Mr. Orange monologuing at them. With a bit of quick thinking from both of them they were free, and in another ten minutes, running into a blue box that had initially freaked her out. That was mainly because the TARDIS was bigger on the inside (he had seemed annoyed when she said that – she took it he got it a lot), but also because when she ran back out the doors to double-check the outside she found them ten blocks away from where they had left.

He had asked her to go with him, saying that he liked her ("You're good in a pinch, you are!"). He told her the box – the TARDIS – could travel in time and space, and she had been hesitant at first, but it had been too tempting. Now, a week later, she was starting to wonder just why she had agreed.

Oh, it was a blast, to be sure – but she didn't really know him. His life was fast-paced and dangerous, but it was still actually kind of fun. And she found that, when they weren't wreaking havoc somewhere, they actually were helping people. Plus, he wasn't bad company. For the most part he was rather hyperactive, always smiling and running around and acting way younger than he looked (which was absolutely divine, by the way – definite piece of eye candy there). There were times, though, that she'd find him standing in one of the halls of the TARDIS, looking at a bright pink door like it was everything in the world and he had lost it. Sometimes she'd say something, and his eyes would get this far-off look or he'd close up real quick, but the moments would be over before she had a good chance to gauge them. Generally, though, he was happy – or tried to be; his smiles never fully reached his eyes, and she wondered sometimes just what had happened in his past that could have hurt him so badly.

As she had only been on the TARDIS for a week, she was still getting used to the winding halls. She had managed to almost memorize a few basic destinations, but she would still sometimes find herself stuck in the Wardrobe when she was just looking for the loo. It had been one of those chance mistakes, this time with the kitchen as her intended goal, that had found her stumbling upon the Doctor in one of his quiet moments, the ones where he looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest by something unspeakable.

"I almost did it again today, old girl," he whispered, and her face scrunched as she realized he was talking to the TARDIS. She still had trouble believing the ship was actually alive, despite what he told her. "I grabbed her hand, and for a moment…it's been years. It should be easier by now, but…"

With a deep breath, she decided to get to the bottom of this problem. She couldn't travel with a bipolar loon – it just wasn't safe. Besides, a part of her was genuinely concerned for him. She knew all too well how bad it was to keep things bottled up; she didn't want him shutting down on her.

"Doctor?" she asked, taking a step into the room. It looked like an old-fashioned library, complete with squishy green sofas and a gothic fireplace. He jumped and whirled around, staring at her guiltily with wide eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Sh-Shireen…" he whispered, his voice choked – but only for a moment. A mere second passed, and his trademark grin was back in place. She bit her lip at that. "Sorry – didn't see you there! Need directions again?"

"What should be easier by now, Doctor?" she asked, eyes narrowing at him. His mouth fell open, his brows knitting together as he gave her a confused look.

"Sorry?" he asked, and she sighed.

"Doctor, please…I know something's wrong. What happened?" she asked, and when his jaw snapped shut and his eyes darkened, she shook her head at him. "You were just talking to the TARDIS, weren't you? You said you almost did something earlier, and that whatever it was should've been easier because of how long it's been. How long since what? And I know this can't be the first time – I've seen that look, the same one you're wearing now, when I say something or something random happens. And that door – that pink one! You stand outside it for hours, just looking at it like it just socked you! Why, Doctor? What's wrong?"

He turned his head, looking back to the fire blazing in the grate. His eyes reflected torment, showing his mind to be a million miles away from their spot in the time vortex. His lips twitched up in a slight smile, and she wondered what he was really seeing behind those eyes that suddenly looked so very old.

"Have you ever lost anyone, Shireen?" he asked, and she was almost startled by the question. Almost – it didn't really surprise her that he was like this because of a loss. She looked down only briefly before returning her gaze to his face; he was still staring at the fire with that here-but-not look.

"Yes," she said, and his smile grew just a bit. She looked at the fire, finding a smile of her own curving her lips in memory. "Everyone. My whole family died in the fight at Canary Wharf a few years back. Most of my mates survived, but…my best friend…she died, too."

"Me, too," he said, and her eyes shot up to him. His had closed, his look turning wistful as memories played out in his mind. "I lost…she was…what about your friend?"

"Grew up together," she said, shrugging. She wanted to press him for details about the 'she', but something told her he might not be ready to tell, not yet. "We were more like sisters. We'd have our rows – the worst being over guys, 'specially this one bloke she had the misfortune of dating once – but we were inseparable. She went off traveling a year or two before the fight, but they told me she came back just before those metal men arrived."

"Maybe she didn't," he said, and she could tell he wanted to believe it. Maybe it was a fluke and she was still alive. A thrill of gratitude warmed her heart at that; he could be real sweet sometimes.

"No, she did," she said, and he shot her a look. She smiled. "The head of Torchwood – that's the company that was stationed at Canary Wharf, only he said his branch was in Cardiff – came to see me a bit after the fighting stopped. He said…he said she was in the thick of it, fighting along with the Torchwood people against the metal things. He said she went down a hero."

"Jack?" he asked, looking at her again, and she nodded.

"Yeah, that's what he said his name was," she said. "He said he knew her – had run into her in her travels a ways back. Said he knew we were close, and he wanted me to hear the news from someone who could…well, relate. Said she was special. I thought…I asked him if he had dated her, but he said Rose was –"

"Rose?!" he asked, and she jumped as he whirled around, his eyes sparking as his jaw dropped. She blinked and nodded, gulping as she took a step back. "R-R…you…Rose?"

"Yeah," she said, nodding. Something was slowly clicking into place, but it was too impossible – too radical – to believe. "My friend. Rose Tyler. She died –"

"She's not dead," he snapped, and she quirked a brow at him.

"But Jack said –" she started, and once again he wouldn't let her finish.

"She's not dead," he said darkly, his eyes narrowing at her as a shock of grief flashed through them. "She's alive. She's so alive. She was almost…but then Pete popped back, and he…she's with them now. Her family. In Pete's World. Happy."

"Doctor…" she started, the puzzle nearly complete in her mind. "You…you…it was you, wasn't it? The man that took her traveling? And it wasn't around Europe, was it?"

"Yes, and no, it wasn't," he said, smiling that hesitant smile at her. He looked back at the fire, his hands twitching inside his pockets. "You…I should have realized, when you said your name. Shireen. She was always talking about you…or to you, on her mobile. It never occurred…I'm such a fool…"

"Well, it's quite the coincidence," she said, and he laughed, shaking his head. He seemed as stupefied by it all as she did. A thought occurred to her, and she gave him another hesitant look. "Doctor…what do you mean, she's alive? Pete? But her dad's dead!"

"It's a different Pete – one from a parallel Earth," he said, and she knew she had to look gob-smacked again. "We fell in there once, and we met up with Pete. In the twenty-four hours we were stuck there we managed to find the one scientist who wanted to cheat death by turning humans into Cybermen – those're the metal men that attacked, not the pepper pots. We stopped him and left, and she got to meet her parallel dad. Few months pass and we're captured by Torchwood, and then the war. Pete, Mickey, Jake, and some others from that Torchwood popped in to help save the day, and Rose…"

"What happened, Doctor?" she asked, taking a step closer. She was finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden, the news that her friend might not be dead hitting her like a lorry going eighty on a dark night. "What happened to Rose?"

"Torchwood ripped a hole in the wall of the universe – that's what caused the war," he said, looking at her. She knew, from the torn look in his eyes, that she wasn't going to like this part. "The only way to stop the Cybermen and Daleks was to open the Void and suck them back in, and we could because of all the void stuff on 'em. But Rose and me, we were soaked in it, too – everyone that travels between universes is. I opened it on this side, and I sent her back with Jackie and Pete and Mickey and all the rest of 'em. I sent her to where she'd be safe, but she came back – she always came back."

She didn't miss the smile at that, and she wondered how many times they had been in situations where she had to 'come back' before the war.

"She told me flat out that she wasn't gonna leave me," he said, looking back to the fire. "Said she promised me forever, and she did, too. She had every intention of keeping that promise. But the lever she was operating…the one that would open the Void…it slipped, and she tried to stop it. She held on, but…it was too strong. She fell."

"You said she wasn't dead," she cut in, and he gave her a look. She bit her lip and nodded, signaling for him to continue.

"Pete jumped over to this dimension one last time – just in time to catch her and pop back before the walls closed. He saved her," the Doctor said, turning his back to her as he faced the fire. She saw his shoulders tense, and she felt tears start to well in her eyes.

"_Me? Nah, but I wanted to. She was too busy caught up on that guy she was traveling with. You should've seen 'em together – they were cute. They were so cute they made you sick, but…they fit. I loved her, yeah, but…I was always gonna be second fiddle to that guy. He was it for her."_

It made a bit more sense now, when she thought about it. And as the Doctor's head bowed and his shoulders gave a choked jerk, she felt all the more horrible for him. She had lost her best friend – he had lost so much more.

"The universe sealed itself up, and she's there, on the other side, with her family. She's with them and happy. I got two minutes on a beach to say goodbye to her – burnt up a sun to send a projection just to say goodbye," he said, and she could imagine the smile on his face. "She told me…I'm a Time Lord, Shireen. The Time Lord. Relative master of it all. And you know what's funny about that?"

She shook her head, but she didn't think it mattered if he saw it or not.

"I ran out of time," he said, a bitter laugh tearing from his throat. He turned his head, and she could see the tears shining in his eyes. "Isn't that funny? The one thing I'm the lord of, and I ran out. I never told her…but she knew. She always knew. She deserved to hear it, though. She deserved it to hear it."

"Isn't there any way, Doctor? Couldn't you bring her back?" she asked, and he gave a quick jerk of his head. "But you said you'd gone through before! You said –"

"It was an accident that time," he said, his eyes turning hard. "The walls are closed, Shireen. She's trapped there, and I'm trapped here. We're trapped on opposite sides, and we can't get back to each other. It's impossible – and not the kind I tend to make work, either. There is no way."

She closed her eyes, biting her lip against the tears she felt running down her face. What right did she have to cry when he wasn't? She pushed out a shuddering breath and shoved a hand through her hair, trying to find some comfort in the fact that someone she loved had survived the war. She tried to see the bright side in Rose being alive, but a part of her knew there really wasn't one. If she knew Rose, and she _knew_ Rose, her friend wasn't faring any better than the Doctor; she was probably just as torn as the grieving man before her was. That, she thought, might just be something death would have been better than.

"I suppose…" she started, and he turned to look at her. "You'll want me to leave now, right?"

"What?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Look at you, Doctor," she said, and he frowned. "You're a wreck over her. How are you gonna be able to have me around, knowing how close we were? You'll see me and think of her, and then you'll get right like this again."

"No," he said, shaking his head. He looked down for a moment before smiling, and his eyes locked back on her. "You know, my past few companions…it was hard, because they knew I kept comparing them. Not intentionally, but it happened. It was even worse because they never knew her. Maybe…maybe with you it'll be easier. You'll at least know what I mean when I make some offhand comment. You knew her, so you knew how amazing she was. You'll get it when they couldn't possibly."

"Still's pretty weird, though," she said, her lips tugging into a grin. "How probable is it that the one Shireen you pick up is the one that knew Rose?"

"Probability of –" he started, but she raised a hand, laughing.

"All right, I get it – you're a genius. I don't really wanna know," she said, and he grinned. She shook her head, taking a breath to compose herself. "I'm off to the kitchen, then. Doctor…thank you."

He nodded, but she knew from his eyes that he didn't fully see what she was thanking him for. That was ok, though. She gave him a nod before turning and leaving the room, her mind swirling with thoughts and memories of her old friend. That smile grew just a notch as she heard him resume his conversation with his ship, silly as she still thought it might be.

"Someday, old girl. Someday I'll find a way. This universe just has too many people who can't afford to be Rose-less."

**A.n.:** _So…eight paragraphs to get a name – how many of you were expecting the 'she' to be Shireen? And how many knew exactly what was coming the moment ya' saw the name? Anyways, still not entirely happy with it, but eh. And to clear things up: the Jack that told Shireen about Rose is a pre-S3 Jack, so all he knew is what was on file at Torchwood (I imagine there were security vids or something that gave him an idea but might've cut off before the end of the war). Basically why he didn't tell her Rose was still alive, 'cause…well, he didn't know yet._


	28. Familiar Faces

**Title:** "Familiar Faces"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #96 (WC: Parallel)

**Word Count:** 1,729

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary: **It seemed the whole 'parallel world' thing was really living up to its title, as most of those interesting people were parallels of people she had already met from her home universe.

**Notes:** Set in Pete's World. Parallel insanity abounds.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**Familiar Faces"**_

Rose had met many, many interesting people during her time at Torchwood. It seemed the whole 'parallel world' thing was really living up to its title, as most of those interesting people were parallels of people she had already met from her home universe.

First there was Sarah Jane, who had been so very different as she cowered beneath some rotting stairs to hide from a tiny alien dog. Ok, technically first had been her dad, Pete – but that was the first time she had fallen into this universe, and when they had met he had yet to take over Torchwood London. She could also count Ricky if she was to count Pete, but again: he wasn't part of Torchwood.

But back to the point: after Sarah Jane had come John Smith, who had the unfortunate luck to be placed as her partner for a time when Jake and Mickey had left for Torchwood Cardiff. John was the best Torchwood Edinburgh had to offer, but Rose had been less than impressed with him. He looked exactly like the Doctor, but that's where the similarities ended. He hated bananas, he only talked when necessary, and his personality was pricklier than a pineapple. That partnership had quickly ended after they had been captured by and escaped from a group of Slitheen in Downing Street, when she had completely lost it and had screeched at him for a good two hours about how horrible he was for hating bananas and being reclusive and just _why_ didn't he have a sonic screwdriver again? (That bit had been followed by the brilliant move of beaning him with her own, a gift from a traveling merchant who had a crush on her, which had instigated his two seconds' notice.)

Next had come – much to her horror – Lady Reinette, the daughter of Lord Louis and Lady Marquise de Pompadour. Louis was a business tycoon and very influential member of the French government, and also happened to be the son of an alien king – something Rose found highly amusing, all things considered. He had hired Rose and her new partner Donna Noble to stand as bodyguards for Reinette during a ball he had thrown at Versailles to celebrate the eighty-ninth anniversary of his wedding to his wife. It had been a rather uneventful evening, but Louis had been convinced some intergalactic hit men were after his family, so they had been called in. Rose's favorite part of the evening was when one of Reinette's rather uncoordinated dance partners tipped her and her dazzling white and gold gown into a large bowl of red punch, and her only regret was that she had not been said dance partner.

A rather unfortunate accident led to her meeting Captain Jack Harkness, who – much like John Smith – was an absolute nightmare compared to his parallel self. He was as full of himself as ever, though – if possible – just a tad bit more libido-driven, but he was evil incarnate. He was a space pirate, of all things, and he had been picked up by Torchwood while trying to rob a cargo ship owned by the Forest of Cheem. Mickey had gotten quite the laugh from the story of Jack's interrogation the next time she had called him, but Rose still got chills from it. He had been blitzed off his rocker, and if not for the sonic locks binding him to the chair he would have forced a dance long before she had used her screwdriver to drop a shelf on his head.

She had run into Chris Eccles at a coffee shop on her lunch break one day, and she had been quite surprised to find a rather chatty, cordial, open man under the leather jacket she had at one time been so used to. They talked her entire break, and a bit after, about his job teaching a psychology class at Oxford and his lovely wife Cassie, and once again she was amazed at how different a parallel world could be. She had left him after being paged for the fifth time by Donna with a kind word about keeping his wife away from any and all beautification surgeries.

Rupert Giles was captured on his way to Cardiff for possessing a strange artifact that was setting off all sorts of sensors and alarms at Torchwood London. Rose had been a bit unnerved to meet him; despite the messier hair (which she had immediately decided was a much-needed improvement to the gelled nightmare she had seen before), jumper and slacks, glasses, and general emotion he portrayed he was an exact copy of his other-world self. So much so that the initial panic she had felt at seeing him caused her to enter the interrogation room with a bucket of oil, which she promptly chucked at him. As it turned out, he was just a human on his way to meet up with an American friend – Willow something – to stop an ancient demon sect from starting the next apocalypse. According to him, there had been at least twelve – but he had lost count around two years ago.

The strangest by far had been this universe's version of the Face of Boe, who was in fact a foot. It had been rather odd talking to a toe larger than her head.

It went on and on, from her old mate Shireen (just Sharon here, thanks), all the way to Elton and Ursula, who had actually been almost the exact same as she had known them – only this time she had sat and comforted Ursula, and there had been no Doctor to turn Elton into a talking head in a concrete slab.

It wasn't just people she re-met through Torchwood, either. She had found, on a late-night visit to the large library found in the Tyler estate shortly after arriving there, a massive volume on the collective works of Charles Dickens. In Pete's World, Dickens was the equivalent of Edgar Allen Poe (whose genius had never quite took off, it seemed) – a twist instigated by a ghostly encounter Christmas night, 1869.

And it had continued past Torchwood, too – even up to when she was back with the Doctor. Once they had been ready to leave the parallel Earth (the morning after he had found her – partially because the TARDIS needed time to recharge and partially because her mum refused to let him just whisk her away for good without a proper goodbye), he had taken her back to the TARDIS. She had let out an undignified squeal upon seeing the old blue box on the street corner, and she had raced ahead of him to give the outside a long-overdue hug. He had laughed at the display, but upon her insistence he had allowed her to open the doors with her old key and rush in – where she had found another familiar face sitting on the captain's chair, giving both of them an unfamiliar glare that she was positive could kill a small nation.

There had sat Donna, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved magenta top, her feet propped on the console and arms crossed tersely over her chest. She had fixed the Doctor with a look, letting out a loud "Where the hell have you been?!" while he just fidgeted. It shouldn't have surprised her that the Doctor had been traveling with the parallel of Donna, but it did – probably because of how violent this Donna was. When the Doctor hadn't come up with a satisfactory answer ("Oh, you know, mother-in-law from hell demanding a nice sit-down dinner and all…"), she had stormed over to him and had given him a nice big slap, and Rose had felt very sorry for him – he had already been slapped three times the previous night by her mother. Donna had turned on her, and she had inched back slightly, but the glare had been replaced with a beaming smile as she had extended her hand and introduced herself, saying how glad she was to finally meet her after so much time. (She had been surprised at that, too – the Doctor wasn't exactly known for talking about past companions to the new ones, was he?) She had officially decided she liked her level-headed, relatively calm Donna to this bipolar nut job of an original.

To match Donna, Martha Jones had entered the console room a few minutes later asking what all the noise was about. Rose had given the Doctor a look at that, and he had returned the look with one of his own, along with a cheeky comment about how jealous she looked. It wasn't exactly jealousy – she had expected new companions. She had even hoped for them, as she didn't want him alone. What it had been was just surprise. She was great friends with the Martha Jones of this world, as her cousin Addy was engaged to Mickey. They were both supposed to be in the bridal party at the wedding, Martha the maid of honor and Rose a bridesmaid.

It was much later, after they were back in their own universe and Martha and Donna were busy getting some shut eye (after landing in Cardiff to both refuel and say hi to Jack – she had immediately slapped him, followed by a hug and a thanks for not being a perverted space pirate hell-bent on shagging and killing her), that she had found herself with the Doctor in the library, curled up on one of the squishy green sofas as they talked about all that had gone on in their separation. She told him about the dopplegangers, and he had laughed for hours over the prospect of a 'nice' Donna. He had nearly gagged when she had told him about his ninth self's parallel being married to the parallel of Cassandra, something he had told her to never mention again. Eventually they had faded into a comfortable silence, watching the fire and just enjoying the feeling of being together again.

It had been a quiet thought when it had come, but as she reflected on her time in the parallel world and everything that was so different yet so the same, she came to the quiet realization that there had to be something somewhere ruling over the Universe, because things just worked out too cooky sometimes for it to be any other way.

**A.n.:** _Most of the parallels were made up, but I so don't own rights to Ripper. He's all Joss's (I'm hoping y'all already knew that, but I should prob'ly point it out anyways for legalities…)._


	29. She Likes to Run

**Title:** "She Likes to Run"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #47 (Heart)

**Word Count:** 452

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary: **She runs now because she has to. She runs now to keep sane.

**Notes:** Post-S2, Pete's World. Pure drabble.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

"_**She Likes to Run"**_

She likes to run. It's never like before, but sometimes it's just enough, and it helps her forget. Forget she's stuck on solid ground, trapped in an alternate universe with closed walls – forget she's not still running just because she can.

She runs now because she has to. She runs now to keep sane. She runs now because if she doesn't…

She doesn't think about that. If she does, she stops, and that's when the nightmares come. She runs through her life and work with a fake smile and a witty remark, and it's how she survives. She rarely sleeps, and she can hardly bring herself to eat anymore; she does both, but the actions are mechanical and not her. They notice the change, the ones who came with her, but they say nothing. What is there to say that hasn't already been said? What is there to say that could possibly make it better?

She lives for a sound she knows she will never hear again – the sound of the universe, her universe. They know, but they say nothing. She thinks that even if they knew the words they wouldn't voice them; they love her, though she's too detached to truly care anymore.

But there was a time, back before she had died, when she did. She had been Rose Tyler before her death, a girl known worlds over for a heart that could love anything – even a Dalek. There was a time she had looked into the heart of time itself, and she had seen everything – all that was, all that is, all that could ever be.

She hadn't seen the walls closing with her on the wrong side. Or maybe she had, and it was a part of the memories her mind still kept locked from her.

But it had happened, that time – all of it. There had been a time she had been alive. A time she had taken the hand of a perfect stranger and ran just because he told her to. She had never stopped running, and she runs still.

She likes to run. It's never like before, but sometimes it's just enough, and it helps her forget. Forget she's stuck on solid ground, trapped in an alternate universe with closed walls – forget she's not still running just because she can.

She runs to survive, to keep the blood coursing through her dead heart. And maybe, one day when she's too tired to keep running, she'll hear the sound she lives for but can never hear again.

And maybe that will give her heart the strength to keep running again, not to survive but because she _can_.

And maybe, just maybe, that's all she really needs.

**A.n.:** _Really short, I know, but there was a line in a fic somewhere about how Rose runs "because it's all she remembers knowing" or something (I'd give title/author, but I can't for the life of me find it Dx), and it put this into my head and there ya' have it._


	30. Back to Basics

**Title:** "Back to Basics"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #52 (Fire)

**Word Count:** 2,625

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary: **In which Rose learns that you _always_ check the settings before using the sonic screwdriver.

**Notes:** Between "Fear Her" and "Army of Ghosts", when they're getting the Bazoolium. Now, I know the Doc said the screwdriver wasn't really lethal, but I don't fully believe that, and I doubt I ever will.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

**Dedication:** I've decided that everyone who inspires a plunny deserves one of these, so these might be popping up more. Anyway, this one goes to Lydia Hunter, who inspired this with a bit in ch10 of her fic A Regency Romance (really good – y'all should go read it!). (I would go into further explanation, but if you know the story you'll prob'ly know what made me think this, and I don't wanna give anything away for either fic – and this is pretty self-explanatory anyway, so yeah…)

"_**Back to Basics"**_

The Doctor winced as his head was again thrown to the side, the sheer force of his guard's backhand giving him a nasty case of whiplash. He blinked, moving his jaw about in annoyance before turning back to look at the two men before him. His guard wasn't so bad; just a bulky muscleman that actually had a rather apologetic look to his eyes. He had a feeling that if not for the sadist in the waistcoat a few feet away he wouldn't even be there. Maybe the poor boy was caught up in the same political struggle he was, just another helpless victim in this whole mess. The boy gave him another quick smile - that look of remorse still so thick in his eyes - as his main annoyance turned away.

The man in the waistcoat. Eugh. He was...well, he was making Jackie seem like a saint. And that, in his book, was a very hard thing to do. He looked like a pompous senator from the 1920s - complete with combover, monocle, and white mustache. He had an annoying little habit of twitching his nose, making the mustache jiggle from side to side in a truly terrifying manner that made him think that maybe - just maybe, and please don't think him mad for it - it was alive. He held himself stiffly with pride, his hands continuously clasped behind his back in what he must think a dignified manner, and he was a bit rotund. His pudgy face was drawn in a constant scowl, and all in all...well, the man just gave him the creeps.

He wasn't even supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in the bazaar with Rose, picking up a gift for Jackie (really, when he got out of this they were just going back to the stand with Bazoolium - at this point he just didn't care if Jackie would rather use the morning news instead of an alien trinket; he wanted out). He didn't even remember how they had been separated; one minute she had been looking over babel fish and the next he had been picked up by a trio of coppers and hauled off to...well, here. He didn't even do anything this time - really, he hadn't! His captor, however, seemed thoroughly convinced that he was neck-deep in a current conspiracy to overthrow the planet's rather unorthodox, tyrannical leader. He refused to believe that he was just stopping through with his friend to visit the annual alien faire. Granted, he very well could be - but that didn't explain why they hadn't brought Rose along as well. If he was neck-deep in the conspiracy, surely she was right along beside him?

Well, that's time travel for you...

"I grow tired of your arrogance, Doctor!" the man in the waistcoat - what did he say his name was, anyway? Inspector Garry? Gordon? Garfunkle? Gadget? - snapped as he whirled back around. The Doctor fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that would probably just earn him another slap. He was just glad Gadget hadn't given Penny (ok, that was a bit mean - Penny was a girl's name after all, and his guard was most definitely not a girl...at least he was pretty sure he wasn't...) a gun; the man was definitely very trigger-happy. He leaned back in the stiff wooden chair he had been tied to and sighed, shaking his bruised and bloodied head.

"I keep telling you, Inspector," he said in his most patient of voices, which was sounding more exasperated as the minutes ticked by (really, this had been taking entirely too long – Rose was going to start to worry!), "I'm just here for a visit."

"With your..._friend?_" Gadget asked, and the Doctor sighed.

"Yes, with my friend. Lovely girl, Rose - you'd like her mother," he said, looking to Pen...Paul. Peter. Parker! "You both have wicked backhands. She's always looking for a new man, that Jacks - I'm sure we could bring you back and set you up on a nice, proper date. You two would really hit it off!"

Parker turned an appropriate shade of red, the blush making his slightly orange skin practically glow in the dark room, and the Doctor gave him a cheeky wink. Gadget let out a frustrated growl, and he motioned to Parker. Though the Doctor braced himself, he still felt his teeth tear against his left cheek as his head was again thrown to the side by Parker's slap. He opened his mouth and coughed, again rotating his lower mandible before spitting out a mouthful of saliva and blood. He took another moment to compose himself before turning back to Gadget, his eyes steely. Gadget pointed at him, his eyes sparking in rage.

"Tell us where your accomplices are hiding!" he shouted, and the Doctor barely caught the fearful look from Parker before he rolled his eyes and slumped back into the chair. For the love of Pete...no, wait – really had to stop using the phrase; it was just too weird now that he actually knew a Pete. For the love of…for the love of…oh, bugger it – for the love of Pete!

"Now, look!" he said, looking back to Gadget and giving him his best 'I'm-the-Doctor-and-this-is-me-very-Cross' look. "I've already told you - I'm just here for the faire! The only accomplice I know of is Rose, and she was –"

He stopped as a loud explosion sounded from the door, and when he turned his head with Gadget and Parker to stare at the disturbance he literally felt his jaw hit his knees (well, maybe it was just more blood leaking from his mouth, but the sentiment's the same). Where the heavy metal door had once stood was a billowing cloud of smoke and flame; smoldering heaps of twisted metal and burning wood surrounded the first two or so meters of the room, and the wooden frame was speckled with little fires dancing with the smoke. He squinted as the smoke began to clear, ignoring Gadget's outraged splutterings when he noticed a very familiar, Rose-shaped figure standing in the entrance. The smoke lifted a bit more, and if he hadn't been so concerned he would have laughed at her appearance; she looked just like Wiley Coyote after another failed attempt at catching the good ol' Road Runner. Her hair was puffed out almost unnaturally, soot dampening its normal golden sheen, and her entire front was blackened from the recoil of the blast. She was gawking at where the door had stood only moments ago, her hand still held towards it with her finger hovering dangerously over the activation button on the sonic screwdriver.

"Er..." he started, blinking. 'How in Rassilon's name did she manage to pull off _that?!_' he thought, trying hard to fight the grin that wanted to break free. "Scratch that, gents. Apparently she's right here. Hello, Rose!"

"Oh, my God," she said, her eyes bugging out of her skull as she finally looked at him. "I blew up the door!"

"Yeeap," he said, popping his 'P' as he looked at the shrapnel. "That you did."

"With the sonic screwdriver!" she said, and he felt himself try to back away as she waved it at him.

"Yeah, I can see that," he said, nodding.

"But you said it wasn't lethal!" she screeched, and again he was torn between whether or not he should be laughing at all this.

"Weeelll..." he started – rather intelligently, if he might add. He looked up, nodding slightly back and forth as he considered her words. He had a really bad, burning desire to scratch his ear – stupid bloody ropes… "Usually, yeah..."

"Wh-who the blazes are you?!" Gadget cried out, and the Doctor turned to look at him, frowning. Oh, yeah...he was still there, wasn't he? "How did you get in here?! What have you done to the door?!"

"Blew it up, apparently," the Doctor said, waggling his brows at Rose, who - despite her obvious frustration with him - couldn't help but grin back.

"I can see that!" Gadget snapped, glaring at him.

"Well, you did ask..." he replied, giving him a perfectly innocent look. His glare only turned icier, and the Doctor sighed as he realized his boyish charm just wasn't going to work on the Inspector.

"I asked you a question, girl," Gadget seethed at Rose. "Who are you? Are you working with him and those other rebel swine?!"

"I...uh..." Rose stuttered, looking at him. She was saved from answering by Parker, who had managed to sneak around behind Gadget. While the Inspector was busy giving Rose the evil eye, Parker slammed his hand into the back of his neck, and after stuttering a moment his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped forwards. The Doctor and Rose shared a look before she ran over to him, quickly setting the screwdriver and using it to snap the ropes holding him to the chair.

"You got it on the right setting?" he asked, grinning at the Look she shot him; it really was just too easy sometimes. She stood, lightly tapping the back of his head with the heel of her palm, and he grit his teeth against the jarring. She gave him a slightly apologetic look before helping him stand, and they turned to see Parker watching them.

"You need to go - now," he said, nodding towards them. The Doctor stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels uncertainly.

"Yes, well...mind me asking why first?" he asked, and Parker gave him a smile.

"I work with you in the Alliance," he said. "I know just from looking at you that we do not work with this you. The you we know is...well, he's not you."

"Different face?" the Doctor asked, raising a brow curiously, and Parker shook his head.

"No, a..." he trailed off, his eyes shifting uncomfortably to Rose, and the Doctor wondered just a moment at the look of sorrow that flashed behind those orbs. He remembered the 2012 Olympics and the sense of foreboding tickling the edges of his mind ever since, but – as he was wont to do these days – he again brushed it off as nothing. They would face the storm when it came, he and Rose – there wasn't a thing in this universe or any other that could stand against them. Daleks, werewolves, Cybermen, Satan, little girls with creepy doodle powers – they'd faced it all and come out on top.

So why didn't they drag her off with him when they thought he was the Doctor helping the Alliance, and why did Parker look so heartbroken when he saw her?

"Just different," Parker finally said, smiling slightly. "That's all."

"Right, then," the Doctor said, nodding to him. He pulled his hands from his pockets and nudged Rose, wiggling his fingers at her. He gave her a smile when she looked up at him, and she grinned back. "Ready to run, Rose?"

"Always, Doctor," she said, laughing, and with a final wave to Parker they left the dark cell behind, Rose leading the way up the halls and out the back door she had snuck in through. They made a quick swing back to the faire, and he hid behind some stalls while he nudged her towards the stand selling Bazoolium, telling her to just get that for Jackie and get it over with. She was making her way back to him when he heard the shouts of more police, and with a manic grin he rushed her, grabbing her hand and dragging her along behind him as they ran up the grassy hills towards the copse where he had parked the TARDIS. When the police chasing after them started firing their pistols at them, he grabbed the sonic screwdriver from her pocket and waved it at them threateningly.

"How d'you think we got out?!" he called, nodding towards Rose. "She used this to blow up your door!"

The police slowed to a halt, and as they continued to run he raised his brows at her, giving her a wide-eyed look. She grinned back, and soon they were both laughing as they slowed to a stop in front of the TARDIS. He pulled out his key and began fiddling with the lock, but before he let her through he gave her another look.

"Really, Rose…I have to ask," he said, glancing behind them to make sure the police had honestly given up the chase. She nodded, her hands on her hips, and he found himself grinning all over again. "You know most of the settings. How'd you manage to blow up the door?"

"Last time you used it was to unlock that door by the gates," she said, shrugging innocently. He could feel an eyebrow arching into his hairline, his grin growing at the defensive glint in her eyes. "I just figured it would stay on that setting."

"The settings are very delicate, Rose – you always check in case you might have nudged it," he said, and she frowned at him.

"So you're saying it's my fault?" she asked, and he laughed as he ushered her inside.

"You were the one who blew up the door," he said, stepping in after her.

"You shouldn't have given me the screwdriver!" she said hotly, and he laughed all the harder as he closed the door behind them, giving one more quick scan for their pursuers.

"Rose Tyler," he said, turning and giving her another look before walking towards the controls, "I do believe it's time we went back over _Sonic Screwdrivers 101_."

He only laughed harder when she chucked the bit of Bazoolium at his head.

–W–

"Did they figure out it was you?"

Parker – actually, his name was Lukan – looked to the Doctor sitting by the small fire, looking up at him with those eyes wavering in darkness, flickering between pain and more pain. Lukan sighed and shook his head, looking down when he found he couldn't face the Doctor. Not this Doctor, not the one he knew – not after seeing how the bipolar man used to be.

"He thinks it was the girl that came to free you," he said, shrugging. "Inspector Garabond thinks she used the screwdriver to knock him out."

"Girl?" the Doctor asked, looking at him in surprise. Lukan bit his lip, nodding slightly. He wondered at the spark of hope in the man's weary eyes, and he wondered if it was wise to tell him.

"The girl you were traveling with," he said. "Rose."

"R…oh," the Doctor said, quickly looking away. "That's right – we got the Bazoolium here. I had forgotten…it was so long ago – a whole other lifetime ago…"

"Doctor?" Lukan asked, and the Doctor stood quickly, shaking his head dismissively at him.

"Never mind," he said, waving him off. "Doesn't matter anymore. Gone now. I need to go meet with Shirptak, anyway. Good job, Lukan. Thanks for the help."

Lukan watched as the man called the Doctor walked away, and he sighed as he disappeared through a door. He didn't know what had happened to that girl – the Doctor rarely talked about her, and when he would he'd get this…this…_look_, like all around him was burning and flame and he just didn't know how to get out. He assumed she had died, and thinking back to the younger Doctor he had met earlier that day a part of him knew that was the only reason such a drastic change could have come over him.

"_Just different. That's all."_

Even now, Lukan knew he never would have had the heart to tell him just how different, and all because of the girl who blew up doors.

**A.n.:** _Originally I was just gonna do the whole "blow up the door with the screwdriver" idea – the added bit with Parker/Lukan and the Bazoolium just kinda grew along with it. Thanks again to Lydia Hunter for the initial idea, though. :D_


	31. Just a Doctor

**Title:** "Just a Doctor"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten x Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #84 (He)

**Word Count:** 679

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary:** If you ask him, he will tell you he is the 'Doctor', and when you ask him 'Doctor _who_?' or 'Doctor _what_?', he will tell you it's just 'the Doctor'.

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday. Rose's POV. Written for a character sketch assignment for school. xP

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

_**"Just a Doctor"**_

If you ask him, he will tell you he is the 'Doctor', and when you ask him 'Doctor _who_?' or 'Doctor _what_?', he will tell you it's just 'the Doctor'. Most times he'll breeze in and out of your life before you can even fully comprehend who or what he is, and all you're left with is the phantom whisperings of the _Doctor_, the mysterious man in pinstripes who came and saved the world.

Because that's what he does, really. He never goes looking for trouble, but it always finds him. He'll land in 2012 to watch the Olympic games and end up knee-deep in a missing children's case. He'll try to take you to a Blockheads concert, and the next thing you know you're running away from a werewolf - sorry, _lupine wavelength haemovaroform_ - next to Queen Victoria. I was told the day after I met him that death is his one constant companion; well, maybe not, but I can see how someone who didn't know him could make the mistake.

But I do know him, and I can tell you for a fact that death is not his companion. Death will find him - it always finds him - but the one thing that tags him no matter what is the guilt. Guilt for the lives he couldn't save, guilt for the lives he was forced to end - guilt for surviving when his planet burned, for pushing the button that made it. He'll give you a smile and a joke and laugh like he hasn't a care in the world, but stay with him long enough and you'll see it. Watch his eyes and you'll see every single one of his nine hundred years and the pain each one has brought him.

He calls it the 'Curse of the Time Lords', to live and survive when everyone around you - everyone you love - dies. To let go when you want nothing more than to hold on. To keep fighting when you just want to give up. To regenerate when you just want to die.

He was healing, last I saw him. No…the last time I was with him. The last time I saw him he was broken, just like me, but fighting it. Fighting because he had to. Fighting because he had to live on, even without me. But when I was last with him, before the war, he was healing.

When I first met him he'd always wear that leather jacket; he'd hardly ever take it off. It was just another wall, a physical manifestation of the many defenses he erected after the last Time War - after Gallifrey had burned. But then the walls started falling, and then came the game station and the Daleks, and when he regenerated he left the jacket behind. He hung it up for pinstripes and plimsolls, and I knew the scars weren't as deep anymore. Well, in a way. The jacket was gone, yes, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if maybe the manic grins and hyperactivity took its place.

Like at Dålig ulv Stranden. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It stopped just short, and his eyes looked so old and pained. He couldn't keep the smile then, but I don't think either of us could.

My point is, he was healing. He was getting better. He smiled and his whole face would light up, and he'd grab my hand and run sometimes for no better reason than we could, and that was the Doctor.

Madame de Pompadour called him a 'lonely angel', but he wasn't really - not then. Maybe he is now, now that no one's there to hold his hand and run with him. But he's not an angel, no matter what she might say. He's just the Doctor - my Doctor - the last of a race long dead that few have even heard of anymore. The Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Worlds, Lonely Angel…all that and so much more, but in the end? He's always just my Doctor.

**A.n.:** _I'm sorry, but...I find it insanely hilarious that I was allowed to write this for school. Anyway, I'm sorry for the lack of updates; if you haven't seen the note in my profile, I'm currently locked out of all my fic files until I can get to Staples and pick up Office 2k7 (please, don't ask). Hopefully that'll be tomorrow or at least within the next week. Anyway, point is that I'm stuck with WordPad, which kills my soul. Dx So if the formatting is wonky, I apologize. "Mirror Action" turned up pretty ok, so I'm hoping this does, too._


	32. I Made My Choice a Long Time Ago

**Title:** "I Made My Choice a Long Time Ago"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten / Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #86 (Choices)

**Word Count:** 2,214

**Rating:** K / PG

**Summary:** "'Cause this is my life, Jackie. It's not fun. It's not smart. It's just standing up and making a decision because nobody else will."

**Notes:** Set during Doomsday.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

_**"I Made My Choice a Long Time Ago"**_

_"__'Cause__ this is my life, Jackie. It's not fun. It's not smart. It's just standing up and making a decision because nobody else will."_

His entire life was about making choices, and he had pulled her into the middle of it without a second thought. Well, she had never had a second thought. She had never looked back, not since the moment he had first grabbed her hand in the basement of Henrik's. He had told her to run, and she had done so without questioning him. Not once did she ever doubt him – not even when he had changed his face, not really. Not even when he had gone crashing through that mirror to rescue Madame de Pompadour. Not even when they had lost the TARDIS and it seemed they would never get her back.

Not even when she had let go of that lever, falling into this parallel world.

He had called to her, and she had followed – she had had no choice in the matter. Part of her had hoped he had found a way to bring her back – to bring her home. Part of her was just hoping to see him again. She had followed him, all the way out here to this cold beach in the middle of Norway. Her beach…why didn't it surprise her that it was named for the Bad Wolf?

"Am I ever gonna see you again?" she asked, her voice cracking with the question. He could only look at her for a moment, and somehow she knew what he'd say before he ever opened his mouth.

"You can't," he said, and though it killed that part of her that would always belong with him, she still didn't look back. She couldn't regret it – not now, not ever. Because really, she had made her choice a long time ago.

And her choice would always be him.

– W –

_"That's why you've gotta go," he tells her, and it's one of the hardest things he's ever had to say. But he knows, just like he did on that stupid satellite, that it's the only way. Sending her away – making sure she's gone and safe – is the only way he'll be able to do what needs to be done. Otherwise…if she's there, and he has to open the Void…he can't. He's ok with dying – just like back then – but he can't be the reason she dies, too._

_"Reboot in two minutes," the computerized voice says as she shakes her head. For once – just once – he wishes she would listen to what he says without arguing._

_"Back to Pete's world.__ Hey," he says, turning and pointing at Pete, smiling despite the gnawing at his hearts, "we should call it that! __Pete's World!"_

_He looks back to her, again throwing on that brave face. He doesn't want her to know how scared he is._

_"I'm opening the Void, but only on this side," he tells her, and he knows she doesn't understand. "You'll be safe on that side."_

_"And then you close it," Pete's voice carries over to him, and he looks back. __"For good?"_

_"The breach itself is soaked in Voidstuff – in the end, it'll close itself," he says, shrugging slightly. Rose won't stop watching him, and he knows she's working it out in her mind. It'll close, on this side. She'll be on the other._

_But she has to survive, and it's the only way he knows to keep her safe. He had promised._

_"And that's it," he says as Pete nods. "Kaput."_

_"But you'll stay on this side," she says as he looks back to her.__ He finds he can't smile anymore._

_"Well, you'll get pulled in," Mickey says, but he says nothing. What could he possibly say to that? They all know Mickey's right – they all know he'll fall into the Void by staying behind._

_But she'll be safe, and he's ok with that._

_"That's why," he starts, bounding off to Yvonne's office to pick up the clamps, "I've got these!__ I'll just have to hold on tight for all my life."_

_He looks at the others, unable to look at her as she steps closer to them. He doesn't think he could bear to._

_"I'm supposed to go," she says, and she sounds numb. He __drops the clamps to the floor__, still unable to face her._

_"Yeah," he says._

_"To another world, and then it gets sealed off," she continues._

_"Yeah," he says, still not looking at her as he races over to one of the computers.__ He clicks it out of stasis and begins entering the coordinates._

_"Forever," she says, and it stabs at him. In his head he hears all of her promises that he always refused to believe, no matter how desperately he wanted it, and he can't help but compare how different this 'forever' sounds. __Betrayed – hopeless.__Like he's finally turned his back on her for good.__ Maybe that's why he can't answer her this time._

_"__That's__ n__ot__ gonna happen," she says, and he nearly winces at the snort of disbelief that accompanied the statement.__ An explosion sounds somewhere in the sky above them, and it seems to throw everyone else into gear. Righting himself, he continues to type – continues to ignore her. It's for the best – doesn't she get that?_

_"We haven't got time to argue," Pete says, assuming the new commander role he's taken so nicely to. "The plan works – we're going. __You, too – all of us.__ We're going!"_

_"No! I'm not leaving him!" she shouts as they walk past her. He's already at the next computer, copying the coordinates into the system._

_"I'm not going without her!" Jackie says, and in the back of his mind he hears a voice groan out about Tyler women._

_"Oh, my God – we're going!" Pete shouts back, and he notices in the man's voice the same exasperation his big-eared other self whined with._

_"I've had twenty years without you, so button it – I'm not leaving her!" Jackie snaps._

_"You've got to," he hears Rose say. 'So do you,' the big-eared voice adds._

_"Well, that's tough!" Jackie gasps, sounding indignant._

_"Mum," she s__ays as the computer gives a one-__minute warning 'til reboot, "I've had a life with you for nineteen years. But then I met the Doctor, and all the things I've seen him do for me…"_

_He stands, sending a quick look to Pete as he heads over to the other computer. She's not going to leave – not on her own._

_So he makes the choice for her._

_"For you.__ For all of us," she continues, and he shares another look with Pete. It has to be now. "For the whole stupid __planet,__ and every planet out there – he does it alone, Mum."_

_He watches as Pete pulls the device out of his inner pocket, and he mirrors the action. It has to be now._

_"But not anymore," she says, and he wants so badly to believe her. He wants to toss the device aside and let Pete and the others go – he wants to keep her here, with him. But he can't, and he knows it; just like then, she has to leave to be safe. And this time there won't be a TARDIS for her to manipulate her way back to him with._

_This time it really is goodbye._

_"__'Cause__ now he's got me," she says, stepping away from them. He shuts himself off from all of them as he slips the device over her neck. He watches Jackie jump back to Pete as she looks down at the yellow button, her head jerking back to him as Pete slams his hand on the switch._

_"What're you –" and then she's gone. He tries to tell himself __it's__ better this way – that she'll be safe now._

_But it's Satellite Five all over again, and once again the choice he's made for her – for them – kills him inside._

_– W –_

_"What're you –" she starts, but the question is ripped away as a jerking sensation suffocates the air from her. For a moment she's nothing, and then she's solid, looking at a darkened mirror of the room she had just stood in – a darkened mirror that didn't include the Doctor._

_"Oh, no you don't," she breathes, her chest tightening as realization sinks in. Once again he's tried to make up her mind for her – when will he realize it won't work? When will he realize that she means forever? She looks down at the button on her neck and pulls it up, fumbling with it a moment as she steels herself against the jerking. "You're not doing that to me again!"_

_She __doesn't even have to consider it as she __slams her hand onto the button, biting her lip against the nauseating lurch and nothingness the jump causes. She closes her eyes just a moment, and when she opens them again the dull blue has been replaced by the blinding white. She looks up, looking around like she hadn't just tossed every good intention he ever had for her back in his face._

_"I think this is the on switch," she says,__ looking to where he's standing by the computer. His eyes are wide, his face shocked – but she can see the fear there. Well, good. __Serves him right for sending her away again._

_She knew he'd be angry with her – she was still angry with him –__ but she wasn't quite expecting the look his eyes slid into – that look of the Oncoming Storm, the one the monsters had nightmares about. He rushes to __her,__ grabbing her arms and shaking her as that wild-eyed look bores into her. He wants her to understand as badly as __she __wants him to; can't he see why she did it? Doesn't he get it yet?_

_"Once the bridge collapses that's it! You will never be able to see her again – your own mother!" he shouts at her, but she won't back down. She didn't before, and she won't now – not this time. He's stubborn, but she can be stubborn, too._

_"I made my choice a long time ago," she says, her voice steady and __calm, despite__ the knot she feels twisting her gut, "and I'm never gonna leave you."_

"Forever."

_What part of it didn't he understand?_

_He watches her, realization slowly dawning on his face, and she thinks that maybe he finally gets it. Maybe he finally understands that it's not his place to decide where safe is for her when she's already chosen him. Maybe he finally understands that she'll always come back, no matter what, because she's already chosen to leave the rest of it behind. Maybe he finally understands that his promise to never leave her behind runs both ways – she won't leave him, either. It was her choice to make, anyway – not his. Not anymore._

_"So what can I do to help?"_

– W –

He had tried to protect her from this. He had tried to send her to safety again, but she had come back. She had a nasty little habit of doing that; it was right up there with never listening to Rule Number One and her tendency to pick up stray boyfriends. He wondered briefly if it would have been easier on her if she hadn't been able to get back to him after he had sent her away. If she had been trapped here because of his trickery, maybe it would have been easier for her to move on with her life.

He had told her before he wanted her to have a fantastic life. He knew she would, even if he wasn't there to see it; she was strong like that. He knew he would have to, too; he had nine hundred years of moving on to know he could. He just didn't know if he wanted to yet. He didn't know if he wanted to let her go yet.

He was burning up a sun to say goodbye, but that was just for her. He wasn't quite ready to say it yet. She deserved this, though, and as he listened to her tear-choked confession he was glad he had made the choice to torture himself a bit more with these last few minutes.

"Quite right, too," he said, smiling slightly at her. His eyes locked onto hers for what he knew would be the last time, and he swallowed against the burning in his throat.

_"__'Cause__ this is my life."_

He didn't want it to be.

_"It's not fun. It's not smart."_

It was for a while, with her.

_"It's just standing up and making a decision because nobody else will."_

And really, now, he only had one more decision left to make, and it was a decision he had made a long time.

_"I made my choice a long time ago…"_

They both had, even if he had never let himself admit it.

"And I suppose…if it's my last chance to say it," he started, and his eyes drifted over her face one last time, committing every curve and trace to memory. He swallowed, biting his lip as he tried to force his mouth to work. She deserved to hear it, just this once. "Rose Tyler –"

But the Universe had made a different decision.

**A.n.:**___I've __been wanting__ to do this one for a while, but I only just got the brainstorm for it the other night__. And sorry this took so long to get out; I stepped away from the ficcing for a bit to work on some arts, so these kinda festered for a bit. I'll be up at BBC for iView on Friday 'n Saturday, but hopefully after that I'll be back with some more stuff – might even get more up__dates before then, if I'm lucky._


	33. What You Want to Believe

**Title:** "What You Want to Believe"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten x Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #90 (Home)

**Word Count:** 1,627

**Rating:** K / PG

**Summary:** 'Rosie, are you Dorothy?' he asked, and in a way she guessed she was.

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday in Pete's World.

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

**_"What You Want to Believe"_**

"But even after the Wicked Witch melted, Dorothy was still trapped in Oz," Rose said, squeezing her arms around her little brother as she continued with her tale. He gasped in shock, his six-year-old eyes widening in surprise as an equally shocked gasp came from their little sister of four sitting on the balcony floor next to them. It wasn't often Mattie and Lily let her get away with telling them something that didn't have to do with the Doctor or her home universe for their bedtime story, but tonight they had asked to hear _The Wizard of Oz_ – something they had heard Uncle Mickey talking about with Uncle Jake earlier that night. Apparently it didn't exist in this world.

"What happened to her, Rosie?" Mattie asked, and a "Yeah, wha' happ'nd, Wosie?" echoed from Lily a moment later. Rose smiled and tapped Mattie's nose.

"Well, then the Good Witch –" she started, but Mattie cut her off by clapping and cheering "Glinda!" She laughed and shook him slightly, nodding. "Yes, Glinda the Good Witch. She told Dorothy that she had had the way home all along."

"She did?" Lily asked, gasping. Rose nodded.

"She did," she said. "Glinda told Dorothy that all she needed to get home was the ruby slippers. She had to click her heels together three times and say 'there's no place like home' each time. Dorothy closed her eyes and wished with all her heart, thinking about how badly she wanted to go home, and she did what Glinda told her to do. But she kept at it, clicking and saying 'there's no place like home' until she was nearly screaming it, and when she opened her eyes she was in her bed back home, still saying it. And her aunt told her that Oz was all just a dream, and she had been hurt in the storm and had been sleeping since then."

"So she never melted the Wicked Witch?" Mattie asked, and Rose smiled.

"Well, it's really all up to you, isn't it, Mattie? Maybe she did go to Oz – maybe she didn't. It all comes down to what you want to believe," she said. Mattie grinned.

"Then I say she did! I say she did melt the Wicked Witch and do all that!" he said.

"Nuh uh – it's too scary! She didn't – s'a dream!" Lily said. Mattie gave her an annoyed look.

"Did too!" he snapped.

"Did no'!" she snapped back.

"Did too!"

"Did no'!"

"Did too!"

"Did n-"

"All right, you two – calm down," Jackie called as she appeared at the door. She scooped Lily off the floor and gave Rose an amused look. "I thought bedtime stories were to calm them down, not get them at each other's throats?"

"Sorry, Mum," Rose said, smiling again as she ruffled Mattie's hair. Jackie sighed and bounced Lily on her hip.

"I'll go put her down – you can get Mattie, yeah?" she asked, and Rose nodded. When she was gone, Mattie looked back at Rose.

"Rosie, are you Dorothy?" he asked, and she blinked in surprise. She frowned and shook her head.

"Of course not, Mattie. Dorothy's just a character in a story – she's not real. Why?" she asked, and he frowned.

"'Cause you're trapped in Oz, too, aren't you?" he asked, and Rose gasped as her chest tightened around her heart. She shook her head again, slower this time as she blinked back tears, and Mattie frowned. "You are – I hear you talk with Uncle Mickey and Mum and Dad and you're not from here, you've said. And you wanna go back – back with the Doctor you always tell us about. But you can't. And you're Dorothy, aren't you?"

"I guess I am, in a way," she said, smiling slightly. She pulled him close and sighed, wondering at how her brother ever got to be so smart. "Come on, Mattie – let's get you to bed."

– W –

"Mum?" Jackie looked down to her side at Mattie, who was tugging on the hem of her shirt. She smiled and put her tea down, nodding at him.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she asked, and he looked down, a frown curving his lips like he didn't quite know how to say what he wanted.

"Can we go shopping?" he asked, and Jackie blinked.

"Shopping? Why on Earth do you wanna go shopping, Mattie?" she asked, and he glanced up at her.

"I wanna get Rosie a present," he said. "Can we, Mum?"

Jackie smiled and turned, standing and grabbing her mug to take it back to the sink. Mattie followed on her heels, still looking up at her with that hesitant, expectant look. She held her hand out for him, and with a grin he grabbed at it.

"Come on, then – let's go get Rose something nice," she said, and they started walking towards the front door. She grabbed the car keys and their coats, and then they were making their way down the drive. "Anything you have in mind, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I think I got something…"

– W –

Rose yawned as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes scrunching at the file on her desk. She hated taking her work home with her, but with days like the one she just had it was nearly impossible. A line of carnage all along the docks, and all because a group of teenaged aliens decided to get juvenile. It had taken hours to clean up the mess, not to mention the time it took to actually round the lot up, and she was just exhausted.

She looked up at the tap on her bedroom door, and she offered a tired smile to her mum and brother, who were lingering in the hall. Jackie smiled at her and nudged Mattie, whispering at him to go on. She turned towards him as he walked in, a small box in his hands.

"What's this, then?" she asked when he held it out to her.

"Open," he said, and she raised a brow as she took it from him.

"For me?" she asked, and he nodded. She looked at her mum, but Jackie only smiled enigmatically at her. She looked back to the sparkly pink-and-silver paper and began to peel it away, revealing a plain, brown, cardboard box. She lifted the lid and gasped, nearly dropping the gift.

Inside, nestled in bunches of white tissue paper, was a pair of bright red, low-top Converse trainers.

She looked up at Mattie, tears swimming in her eyes and blurring her vision. He gave her a nervous smile.

"D'you like them?" he asked, and Rose put them on her desk before she crushed him to her, choking on a sob.

"I_ love_ them, Mattie," she said. She felt his little arms squeeze her and she smiled, burying her head against his shoulder.

"Now you can go home, Rosie," he said, and she couldn't fight the sobbing gasp that tore from her throat at that. He pulled away, and she doubled over and buried her face in her hands. "Rosie? Rosie? I'm sorry, Rosie – I didn't mean it!"

"No, Mattie," she gasped, and she looked up at him and smiled. He was frowning, and he looked terrified. She put a hand on his cheek, her heart swelling with love for the boy. "It's the best gift anyone's ever given me."

"But you're crying," he said, and she shook her head.

"Because I'm happy, Mattie," she said. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Come on, Mattie – let's go read you and your sister that story," Jackie said, walking over and taking Mattie's hand. She gave Rose a knowing smile, and Rose nodded at her. Mattie looked at her one more time, still frowning.

"It worked for Dorothy," he said, and then he let Jackie lead him away. Rose looked down at the shoes for a long while after they were gone, realizing she wasn't going to get any more work done that night. She kicked off her trainers, and without another thought she was slipping into the red Chucks. She stood and walked over to the center of her room, staring out at the balcony and the evening stars beyond. What she wouldn't give to be back out there, traveling among them just like she used to…

She took a steadying breath and closed her eyes, turning her head towards the floor.

"There's no place like home," she whispered, smiling as more tears ran down her face and she clicked her heels together. She laughed as she repeated it, and soon she was laughing hysterically as she clicked her heels and shouted the words. And she didn't know when it happened, but suddenly she was crashing to the floor, crying and screaming and pounding against the carpet just like she had that wall all those years ago. Through it all, she felt her heels still clicking together, her voice still repeating the words like they were the only thing keeping her sane.

She didn't think twice about the hands that were suddenly resting on her shoulders, thinking it was Pete or Jackie come in to comfort her as she rode out another spell of grief. Her head moved limply as a hand was placed against its side, lifting her face up.

"You're right," said an achingly familiar voice that belonged to an equally familiar face – his face. She reached up and touched his hand, and he smiled warmly – sadly – at her. "There is no place like home."

And as he kissed her, she wondered if he could possibly be real, and her words to Mattie the night before came rushing back to her. _"It all comes down to what you want to believe."_

And she wanted to believe he was.

**A.n.:**_ Forgive me for any inaccuracies in the retelling of The Wizard of Oz; I've never read the original book, and the movie terrified me as a kid so it's been ages since I've seen it. (Just like on Power Rangers, I had issues with the flying monkeys – ironic, considering how much I loved Chistery in Wicked.) Actually inspired by a sketch of a pair of red low-tops on dA where the artist called them her "ruby slippers"; it just kinda seemed to fit._


	34. Got Bored of It

**Title:** "Got Bored of It"

**Author:** Wish Wielder

**Fandom:** Doctor Who

**Pairing / Character Focus:** Ten x Rose

**Challenge:** Fanfic 100

**Theme / Prompt:** #38 (Touch)

**Word Count:** 959

**Rating:** K Plus / PG

**Summary: **It's the quiet nights, when he's got too much to do and is too tired to do it all, that he wonders if he's truly gone mad.

**Notes:** Post-Doomsday. Tissue Box Warning henceforth applied (thank you Aku for the TB Beta!).

**Disclaimer:** "Doctor Who" and all respective properties are © the BBC. Megan D. (Wish Wielder) does not, has never, nor will ever own "Doctor Who".

**Accompanying Art**** (Remove spaces and replace words with symbols.)** wish-wielder DOT deviantART DOT com SLASH art SLASH DW-Got-Bored-of-It-67364409

**_"Got Bored of It"_**

_And when I can't be with you dreaming near_

_Keep me in your heart and I'll appear_

_All you gotta do is turn around, close your eyes_

_Look inside – I'm right here_

- "Right Here" by Miley Cyrus

A groan passes through his lips as he slides down the console, his head bumping into a control when he thumps onto the floor. He shoves his hands over his eyes and groans again, as if the action can fix everything that has decided to up and malfunction that night. Not that he isn't grateful for the distraction – he really is – but he wouldn't really mind less of it next time.

His eyes close and his hands fall to his sides. Maybe he should just be grateful for the busy work. Even on its worst days it's better than thinking about –

"You look like death," her voice cuts across his thoughts, and he looks up and smiles as he sees her standing above him. Her hair's down and she's in that old purple shirt, with her hands on her hips and a teasing smile curling her lips. Something tells him he should feel insulted, but he brushes it off and shrugs.

"Old girl's being tetchy again," he says, nudging the base behind him. "Decided to up and break down in the middle of the night. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Nah – got bored of it," she says, and he grins. It's what she always said – says – when she wakes up in the middle of the night and finds she doesn't want to be apart from him. He tucks his screwdriver in his breast pocket and waves her over, and without a second thought she's plopped down on his lap. He rests his arm on her shoulders, and she lays her head against his chest, cuddling closer. He breathes deeply and smiles; he's missed this.

"I keep telling you you should be nicer to her – maybe then she won't break down as much," she mumbles, and he frowns.

"I'm a perfect gentleman to her!" he says, and she nudges her shoulder into his gut.

"Hitting her with a mallet isn't being nice, Doctor," she says. He laughs and shakes his head, conceding to her point.

"Just wish I could actually find the parts that decided to stop working," he says, and he rubs his forehead with the hand that isn't clinging to her like a lifeline. She reaches up, and he sighs as she brushes his hand away to continue the massage herself. He opens his eyes and smiles down at her, and for a moment he can almost forget that she ever –

"You just needed a break, Doctor," she whispers, and he nods.

"I think you're right, Ms. Tyler," he says, and she smiles as her hand comes to rest against his cheek. He places his hand over hers, and he relaxes against the console as he gives her a squeeze. "That and maybe a nice cuppa. A cuppa would be very nice right now – been working all night, you know."

"I know," she says, and without a second thought he leans closer, fully intending to steal a kiss. She laughs and leans back, and he frowns. "Ro-"

"You shouldn't exhaust yourself so much, Doctor," she says, and his frown deepens. "It's not healthy – even for you. And don't give me that 'superior Time Lord physiology' bit – you know you need rest, too. Not as much as us, yeah, but you still need some."

"I'm getting my rest now – with you," he says, but she avoids his hands when he reaches to pull her closer. He sticks out his lower lip in a pout, and her tongue pokes between her teeth as she grins in a way that shows she doesn't believe him. He sighs and nods. "All right, yes, ok, fine – I'll go get some shut-eye. But you have to come with me. Otherwise I stay right here and –"

She starts to get up, but he pulls her back to him. He nuzzles his head against her neck and sighs into her hair. Apple grass – ever since their first visit to New New York.

"Where are you going now, eh?" he asks, his eyes closing as he absorbs the simple feeling of her.

"I can't stay anymore, Doctor," she says quietly, and he presses his lips against her shoulder.

"Why not?" he asks, and he can almost feel her smile.

"You've got to move on now, Doctor," she says, placing her hand against his. His eyes snap open and his head turns towards her, a sudden terror chilling his blood and reflecting on his face. He clings to her tighter as realization dawns on him.

"No," he gasps, and she smiles at him – that beautiful smile he misses so much.

"I can't stay anymore," she says again, and he shakes his head in broken defeat.

"No," he gasps again, his throat closing on him. In that one moment, he forgets how to breathe. "I can't…I still need you. Don't leave me – not again. Please."

"But, Doctor…" she starts, and her smile twists up in a way that stabs his hearts, "I was never even here to begin with."

He gasps another protest, but he blinks and she's gone. His arms are left empty and cold, but he has to remind himself that they've been that way for a long time now. He looks down at the purple shirt in his hands, not quite remembering how it came to be there, and his hearts lurch as the gaps between his fingers ache with the ghost of her touch.

"Rose," he whispers, and it's all he can do to keep from going mad. "Come back…"

But maybe, he thinks, he already has.

**A.n.:** _So I've been kicking this idea around for a while, but it really clicked into place when I was listening to that song last night. Well, that and I was on an angst kick from Ugly Betty and reading some other DD fics. And from a DRose mix CD(s) Swankkat compiled. But mainly I'm blaming Miley. (So really, all chibi threats are directed at her, please. –cough–)_


End file.
